


Lionheart

by Nurmengardx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Castiel is King, Dead John Winchester, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Romance, Swords & Sorcery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25466170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nurmengardx/pseuds/Nurmengardx
Summary: Dean's father died to protect the King on a pilgrimage to receive the Goddess's blessing. Now Dean hears his father's voice in his dreams, calling him to his grave. The only way up is to pledge himself to the King, for the rest of his life.Castiel rules, his kingdom rent in half by a civil war his uncle started, and resents the need for a Lionheart. But the pilgrimage cannot be done without one.With whisperings of raids and gathering forces at the border of his split kingdom, and his own power dwindling, Castiel is pulled in all directions.Receiving the Goddess's blessing is more important now than it ever was.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 45
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter One

Dean trudged up the hill, his heavy boots leaving their imprints on the lush grass. His sword bumped against his hip as he walked, and his cracked leather gloves strained over his curled fists. The mountain loomed behind the castle, casting the grounds into shadow. It was by no means a particularly tall mountain, and Dean was sure it wouldn't take long to scale it. If he squinted, he thought he could see the glow at its peak, where he knew the Goddess waited to give her blessing. He couldn't be sure, but he would find out.

There was a puffing behind him, and he turned to see his brother chasing him across the grass. He rolled his eyes and stopped to wait for him.

'Did you really think I wouldn't find out?' he puffed when he caught up with him.

'No, I just thought I'd beat you here.'

Sam bent double. 'Well tough, I'm not going to let you do it.'

'You can't stop me.' Dean turned on his heel and left Sam to catch his breath, continuing on across the lawn, until he reached what appeared to be a training area, complete with its own chest of sparring swords and straw dummy. He drew his sword and drove the point into the ground, leaning on it as he waited

Sam ran after him again. ' _Don't,'_ he pleaded. 'You don't have to, surely you can just go up the mountain and see him.'

Dean sighed and held his hand. 'You know as well as I do that only the King and the Lionheart can go up the mountain.'

'That's not true!' Sam insisted, stomping his foot. 'Bandits and assassins go up there all the time!'

'By killing all the patrols,' Dean pointed out. 'I'm not going to do that.'

'So you're just going to pledge yourself to the King instead? That's not any better!'

Dean sighed.

'Why are you doing this?' Sam asked. 'You don't have to go up there.'

'Yes I do.'

'But why?'

Dean looked down at Sam, searching him for answers. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, the huge castle doors creaked open, and a figure walked towards them.

Sam stepped away, defeated, and Dean gave him a bitter smile. 'Maybe he won't want you,' Sam murmured.

'Don't see why he wouldn't,' said Dean. 'I'm supposed to be the best, remember?'

Sam just scuffed his boots in the dewy grass, staining the leather.

'It'll be all right,' Dean said, nudging him with an elbow.

'Will it?'

The figure grew closer, the silver fastenings on his expensive leather jerkin flashing in the light. As soon as he reached the training ground, Sam and Dean bowed deeply.

'Don't do that with your sword,' said the King, indicating at Dean's sword, buried in the dirt. 'You'll dull the blade.'

Dean yanked his sword from the ground, sheathing it, and stared. The King was smaller than Dean expected. Tall but slim, and he held himself confidently. His dark hair seemed to catch even the slightest breeze, and his blue eyes held Dean with a hard, cold stare. His own sword rested at his hip, the sheath dyed deep blue and decorated in silver inlay.

'You are Dean?' he asked.

'Yes, Your Majesty,' Dean said, refraining from grinding his teeth together.

'And you are?'

Sam started as the King addressed him and looked away. 'Sam, Your Majesty,' he said. 'Dean is my brother.'

The King nodded, then looked Dean up and down. 'Your captain says you are one of his best swordsmen.' He framed it as a statement, and did not expect an answer. Then he began pacing around Dean, examining him closely.

Dean shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

'Where were you stationed?'

'Mostly patrolling the north-western border,' Dean told him, 'but I spent a lot of time in the town here, too.'

The King nodded thoughtfully, the looked back up at Dean's face. 'Have we met before?'

'No,' Dean said firmly.

'You seem familiar to me...' The King stared at him a beat longer, then turned his back and went to the chest. He picked out two sparring swords and passed one to Dean.

'Are you going to test me now?' Dean asked, struggling to contain his amusement. Slight as he was, he didn't seem to Dean all that much of a test.

'Yes,' the King said simply, watching the way Dean moved, holding his sword ready.

They circled each other. Dean looked about their surroundings, looking for anything to use to his advantage, but the King kept his eyes fixed on Dean, watching, waiting.

Neither of them wanted to make the first move, and continued to circle each other, until Dean felt a bite of annoyance. He chanced a blow, but was swatted away before he even came close. Dean blinked and a small smile tugged at the King's mouth.

Dean tried again, only this time changing the direction of his sword at the last moment, but he was still easily parried.

'You give yourself away,' said the King. 'Try not to telegraph your moves.'

Dean tightened his grip on his sword and heat crept up his neck. He pivoted and aimed again, but was knocked back. He stopped, and so did the King, waiting to see what he would do next.

'You should pick up the pace.'

Dean narrowed his eyes. Clearly the King's stature afforded him a certain swiftness that Dean had failed to take into account. If he couldn't use speed as an advantage, then he would use strength instead. A few, heavy blows ought to suffice. He lunged forward, throwing all of his weight at the King. Their swords crashed together with a great metallic clang, sparks flying, the blades gave a metallic screech as Dean's scraped along the length of the other. He pressed his advantage, forcing the King back a few steps, but Dean knew he couldn't keep up the assault for long. Brute force would only get him so far, but before he could think of anything else, the King spun away just as Dean tried to land another blow, causing him to stumble away. Dean twisted to face him, and only just managed to block the sword aiming for his ankles. Dean barely had time to asses the King's pattern of movement, but noticed that he seemed to be enjoying the challenge. He even thought he saw a sparkle in his eyes.

'Are you sure we haven't met?' the King asked. 'You have the look of someone I know, I'm sure.'

'I'm sure,' said Dean, pressing again, though with significantly less strength. 'I was at your coronation, though,' he said breathlessly. 'Maybe you saw me there.'

The King dropped back, what little pleasure Dean thought he saw there dropped away, replaced by a mask of cool disapproval. 'You were one of the ones that laughed,' he said.

'No, I didn't-' But Dean was cut off by a flurry of blows from the King, each stronger and faster than the last. Dean did his best to defend himself, but the King pushed him further and further backwards, not allowing him one inch to recover, finally causing him to trip over his own boots. The King flicked the tip of his sword up to Dean's throat.

For a moment, Dean lay there, heart hammering in his chest, terrified that he had lost his chance.

'You'll do,' the King said eventually, turning his back and throwing his sparring sword back into the chest.

'But I-'

'You will go and collect your things, then return here no later than nightfall. The steward will meet you and show you to your rooms.' He paused and looked at Sam. 'Will you be joining your brother?' he asked.

'What?' he said, mystified.

Dean pushed himself to his feet. 'Wait, does this mean you'll have me?'

The King slowly turned and stared him in the eye. 'Yes. You will be my new Lionheart.'

Dean let his shoulders relax. 'That's great!'

The King didn't respond, except to pose his question to Sam again.

'I suppose someone ought to keep an eye on him,' he said, gesturing at Dean.

The King nodded stiffly. 'I'll have some rooms picked out for you.' He returned to the castle at a brisk pace.

'But I lost,' Dean muttered, confused.

'Don't complain. This is what you wanted, right?' Sam frowned and stomped off back towards their house, the opposite direction to the castle.

Dean threw one last questioning look at the castle doors, then followed Sam back down the hill. 'Sam-'

'Don't!' he shouted, whirling around with tears streaking down his face. 'You're going to end up dead on that mountain, just like Father, and for what? To see his grave? Why? What's the point?'

Dean didn't respond, and followed him back to their cottage. His bow rested against the outside wall, along with his quiver and several unfletched bolts lay on the ground, where Sam had flung them when he heard what Dean was up to.

They packed their things in silence, the only sound coming from the rustle of their clothes being shoved into bags. Dean didn't have much, only some simple clothes, a spare pair of hard leather boots, and a red scarf his father had given him, embroidered with the royal family crest. Like a silver bolt of lightning, the threads branched out and down, surrounded in a silver circle. When they were ready to leave, Sam threw a jug of water on the last embers of the fire, and looked around.

'Why?' he asked again, finally looking Dean in the eye.

Dean sighed, and sat down at the uneven, rough wooden table. He stared out of the window, up at the mountain. 'It's hard to explain,' he said. 'In my dreams, I can hear him whispering. I have to know what's up there.'

It had been weeks since the dreams had started. Every night, without fail, he dreamt himself climbing the mountain. He'd never been himself, so it was always foggy, but their father was always at the top of the mountain, waiting for him with arms wide. Of course, Dean knew that their father was dead. Had been for years. But the dreams kept coming, more and more insistent every night. So when the King put out the call for a new Lionheart, he jumped on the chance. His captain had been just as confused as Sam was, but he did as Dean asked.

Sam sat with a bump. 'Dean...'

'If you heard him calling, wouldn't you go?'

'I don't know that I would. Not if it meant pledging myself to the King.'

Dean sighed. 'It's as though I'm being pulled to the mountain, and I need to know why.'

Sam suddenly looked interested. 'Maybe it isn't Father. Maybe the Goddess calls to you with his voice.'

'Do you think so?'

'It would make more sense than Father calling to you. Why didn't you mention this sooner?' he said, lightly smacking his arm.

'I didn't want you to think I'd lost my mind,' said Dean.

'That may still be a possibility,' Sam laughed. 'I still don't think you should go, but you can hardly ignore a call from the Goddess.'

Dean grinned at him. 'The sun is setting. We should go.' He grabbed their bags on his way out, and Sam slung his bow and quiver over his back. He took one last look back at their cottage. 'I don't suppose we'll see it for some time,' he said.

'It's not as though we won't be allowed to leave the castle grounds,' Sam said. 'Well, perhaps you might not.'

'Don't tease,' Dean said, as they made their way back to the castle.

The sun was disappearing behind the mountain, and the air had turned chilly. A squat man with grey curls was waiting for them.

'Hello, lovely to meet you,' he said, smiling widely, and shaking Dean's hand. 'My name is Walther, I'm the King's steward. I'll show you to your rooms. You first, Lionheart.'

Dean flinched. 'I haven't been sworn in yet,' he mumbled.

'It won't be too long, observing the niceties sooner won't hurt anyone.' He ushered them both through the grand doors of the castle, into a cavernous entrance halls. Torches lit the walls in elaborate iron brackets, and two flights of stairs wound around either side and another ornate set of doors stood in between. Dean had been in the castle once before, and remembered the throne room to be on the other side. Walther took them away from the doors and up the staircase on the left side. The top of the staircase wound around and led them to a long hallway lined with doors along one side.

'This one is you,' Walther said cheerfully, opening the door nearest them and urging them inside.

Dean stifled a gasp. This one room was bigger than the house he shared with Sam. On their right, set into the far wall, was a fireplace already crackling merrily. A table and several comfortable chairs sat before it, soft blankets draped over them. A polished bookcase stood to the right of the door, stuffed with books and scrolls.

To their left was a sprawling, four-poster bed, neatly made up with red sheets, and full length wardrobe.

But none of that was what caught Dean's eye. Straight across from the door was a set of shutters that had been thrown wide open, revealing a short balcony, and allowing the now fading sunlight to stream in. Beyond it was a view of the lush, green countryside. Dean thought he could see for miles.

'You will be taking your vows tomorrow morning, and you shall find sufficient clothing in the wardrobe.' Walther stepped over to the bookcase and pulled out a few scrolls, carefully tied together, and sealed with red wax.

Dean bit his lip and took them from Walther.

'I see you already know what these are,' he smiled. 'Best give them a read over. Now then-' He clapped his hands together. 'If you'd like to come with me, young sir, I'll show you to your room.'

'Oh, I – could I not stay here? Just for tonight,' he added at Walther's shocked expression. 'It's a big change, I'd like to stay with my brother… to adjust?'

'I suppose there's no harm in it… For tonight then.'

'Thank you, Walther, I appreciate it.'

Dean turned around to hide his smile, then pushed Sam playfully once Walther was gone. 'You appreciate it? Look at you, mister manners.'

Sam rolled his eyes, then glanced down at the scrolls in Dean's hands. 'The Lionheart scrolls,' he said in a hushed voice.

'Yep.' Dean stared down at them, the unspoken awareness between them that these were the same scrolls held by their father.

'Are you going to open them?'

How many times had their father's eyes read these same words? Dean blinked and hastily put the scrolls back on the bookcase. 'I think we know the gist,' he said, walking away from the bookcase and sitting down in one of the chairs. He watched Sam pace the room, the orange light from the balcony shutters washing over him. He pulled out books and flicked through them eagerly, making a small pile on the table of ones he wanted to read more thoroughly.

Eventually, Sam tired himself out, and Dean let him climb into the bed. There would be plenty of time for him to sleep in it himself, and the chairs were hardly the worst place to sleep, but he found slumber escaped him. For a while, he stared at the Lionheart scrolls. He knew he should read them, but he couldn't bring himself to unroll them, imagining how his father might have done it. For a moment, he was tempted to throw them into the fire, but stood up, walking away from them.

It was a warm night, and he'd left the shutters to the balcony open. Only a soft breeze wafted the curtains, so Dean wandered outside, looking up at the crescent moon, and the wispy clouds that drifted across it. The stars twinkled in the sky, unaware of Dean standing below. Dean breathed deeply, calming himself in the quiet of the night, until a movement caught his eye. He turned and saw another section of the balcony, cut off by a line of iron railings, and the King walking across it.

Dean silently watched him lean on the stone edge of the balcony, only dressed in his nightclothes and holding a goblet. He sighed deeply and turned around, leaning his back against the wall and staring up at the mountain that towered over the castle. Dean followed his example, but whatever the King was looking at, Dean couldn't see, so he took the opportunity to watch the King instead. The moon shone in his hair, and his features softened as he stared up at the mountain, and sipped on his drink. Dean thought it must be wine, since it stained the King's lip. His grip was as sure on the goblet as it was on his sword. The way he carried himself when he thought no one was looking seemed less certain, but he moved less stiffly than he had that afternoon.

Just then, the King noticed him standing there. He didn't say anything, he just raised his goblet, as though to toast Dean, and went back inside his chambers. Dean stared at the now empty balcony, more confused than he had been, but eventually went back inside himself. He closed the shutters behind him, throwing the room into darkness. He smoothed the covers over Sam, and finally removed his boots. He made a valiant effort to put all thoughts of the King and his vows out of his mind and make himself comfortable, but it was a long while before he could find sleep before the dying embers of the fire. There was more to the King than met the eye, of that Dean was certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I've been sitting on this one for a while now and kept reworking it, but I think it's finally time to start posting it. I'm kinda nervous about this one, it's a whole world that I made up and I've never done that before, so let me know what you think! I hope you like it and hopefully I'll see you next time!


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

  
  


Dean was woken early the next morning by Walther, who was frowning at him disapprovingly for sleeping in one of the chairs rather than the bed, but didn’t comment on it.

‘The ceremony will begin in a few hours,’ he said. ‘Please get dressed.’ Walther left Dean to blearily scrub his face and gently shook Sam awake. ‘If you would come with me, Master Sam, I’m sure we can find you something suitable to wear in your own room.’

Sam grumbled irritably, his hair tangled around his head, and he scowled at Dean as he was led out of the room.

Left alone, Dean approached the large wardrobe near the bed. It had two doors, and was made of the same dark wood as the mantelpiece. Inside were finer clothes than Dean had seen in a very long time. Most of the pieces were red in colour, though in varying shades, and made his own clothes look pitifully worn in comparison. He rifled through them, allowing himself a moment to run his hands over the quality material while he sought something suitable. He settled on a fitted jacket of crimson, briefly fiddling with the small silver buttons, then he pulled his father’s scarf from his bag. He ran it through his fingers, wondering if the King would recognise it. He decided he would risk it, and draped it around his neck, leaving the sigil visible.

Walther returned for him when it was time, and escorted him down to the throne room. He tensed when he saw the King standing outside the door.

‘Good morning, Dean,’ he said quietly. He was more dressed up than he had been the day before, wearing a doublet of deep blue and a matching cloak. A silver band adorned his head, and Dean frowned, wondering where the real crown was.

‘Good morning, Your Majesty,’ said Dean, remembering his manners.

The King looked him up and down, evaluating him, and his eyes rested on Dean’s scarf. ‘Where did you get this?’ he murmured, gently picking it up.

‘My father gave it to me,’ he said truthfully, then followed it with a lie. ‘He said he bought it at the market.’

‘It once belonged to my father’s Lionheart,’ the King said, turning a shade paler. ‘I wonder...’ He shook his head and let go of the scarf, straightening. ‘Come, the court is waiting.’

The King went first, opening the great double doors to the throne room to reveal a gathered crowd. They fell silent in the King’s presence, and stared at the both of them as they made their way to the top of the room, bowing as the King passed, waiting until he reached the throne itself to straighten again. The King picked up a sword that had been lying on the throne, with red-dyed scabbard, inlaid with the royal family’s crest, only upside down so it looked more like a tree instead.

‘Lords and Ladies,’ the King said, projecting his voice so it reached all corners of the room, ‘friends and family. The time has come again and I have endeavoured to find a warrior worthy of our great kingdom.’ He beckoned Dean forward, who knelt before him. ‘It is my great pleasure to present my new Lionheart, Sir Dean.’

Dean glanced up at him. His face was masked by a pleasant smile, but his voice gave him away. To his great surprise, Dean realised that the King didn’t want to be here either.

‘I bring you all here to witness his vow and entry into my service,’ the King continued, before finally addressing Dean. ‘Sir Dean, you are charged with the protection and safekeeping of the King. Will you, to the best of your ability, lend your sword in my service?’

‘I will,’ Dean said, his voice weak in comparison to the King’s.

‘Will you uphold the laws of our kingdom, and provide an example of good conduct?’

‘I will.’

‘Will you, to the best of your ability, use whatever resources available to you to ensure the ongoing safety of the King?’

‘I will.’

The King’s voice softened, hesitantly asking the question, ‘And will you give your life for mine if need be?’

Dean glanced up at him and saw his expression had soured. For a moment, Dean doubted himself. Sam didn’t want him to do this, and it almost sounded as though the King himself didn’t want him to do this. But with his father’s scarf around his neck, his resolve hardened again and he met the King’s gaze. ‘I will,’ he said firmly.

A fleeting bitterness crossed the King’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a smooth mask of indifference. ‘This is not a vow undertaken lightly,’ he said. ‘You will face many perils and risk losing life and limb. What say you, Sir Dean?’

‘I, Sir Dean,’ he began, the words echoing from his mouth, just as they had done his father’s, 'swear to stay at your side, in the night and the day. Forever and always your sword and shield.’

The King let out a small sigh. ‘Then rise, Sir Dean, and accept your sword.’ He placed the sword in Dean’s outstretched hands, then pinned a silver crest to his chest. ‘This is my sigil,’ he said, ‘now everyone will know who you are.’

Dean looked down at it, strapping the sword to his belt. It matched the one on the sheath, but it was upside down. He made to adjust it, but the King stopped him, shaking his head. He wanted to ask about it, but the room erupted into loud clapping and cheering, so Dean turned to face them, bowing once more, the King disappearing through a side door when Dean’s attention was elsewhere.

‘There will be a feast tonight, but you will need to present yourself to the sword master first,’ Walther said to him, appearing at his side where the King had been standing before.

Dean nodded, watching the crowd begin to file from the room and out onto sprawling lawn beneath the shadow of the mountain. The last one in the room was Sam, and Dean didn’t even recognise him at first. His hair had been combed back and he too had been dressed in fine clothes dyed red, though his were a little short. He looked uncomfortable in it, but did his best to hide it.

‘It was all they had,’ he said at Dean’s raised eyebrow. ‘Walther said they’ll have some made for me. For special occasions.’

‘Right. See you at the feast later?’ Dean said to him.

‘Why, where are you going?’

‘Sword master wants to see me,’ Dean shrugged.

Sam rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, but don’t leave me with these people for too long.’

Dean laughed at him and left the throne room, avoiding the group of nobles outside, watching as the servants set up the feast tables.

Not far into the town stood a stout, stone building. Dark smoke belched from the chimney, and he could hear steel ringing inside. He pushed open the door and found himself inside a surprisingly spacious room.

A heavily muscled man stood over the forge, his dark skin gleaming in the glow of the hot coals; and a woman with long, flaming red hair and high cheekbones sat lazily in one corner. The man ignored him, but the woman stood up, casting a critical eye over him.

‘You’re the new Lionheart?’ she asked, walking over to him.

‘I am.’

‘Are you sure?’ she said derisively.

Dean scowled at her. ‘If I’m not, I just made some serious vows for no reason.’

‘I’m Anna,’ the woman said, once she was finished glaring at Dean. ‘I’m the king’s sword master. I need to see how you use weapons. This is Uriel,’ she gestured at the man at the forge. ‘He will make weapons based upon my recommendations, so I suggest you do what I say, otherwise you might find yourself in a tight situation with only a pocket knife.’

‘I understand,’ said Dean.

Anna gestured at a straw dummy she had set up. ‘Practice on that. I need to see your stance.’ He drew his sword and began striking the dummy and Anna watched him, concentrating. ‘Enough,’ she said after a minute, then began grilling him on how he used his weapons.

‘Can you used any ranged weapons at all?’ Anna asked eventually.

‘My brother's more the archer,’ Dean admitted.

‘Why do you want to be the Lionheart, anyway?’ Anna asked harshly, as she took his measurements for armour. ‘I’ve never seen you, so it clearly isn’t because you care about the King.’

‘But you do?’ Dean said, deflecting the question.

‘Of course,’ Anna snapped.

‘Then why aren’t _you_ the Lionheart?’

Uriel whistled through his teeth, and Anna fixed him with a cold stare.

‘Anna-’ Uriel began, but Anna had already began unlacing one of her black velvet gloves.

She pulled on the glove and her whole hand fell away, revealing a stump where it should have been.

‘Training accident,’ she said shortly. ‘Can’t be the Lionheart without a sword hand.’ She angrily laced her hand back on, and stomped off into another room, where they heard her clattering around.

‘Uriel?’ Dean said, staring after her.

‘Hm?’

‘What happened to the last Lionheart?’

Uriel put down the tools he was holding and nodded in the direction Anna had gone. ‘Her sister,’ he said. ‘She was the Lionheart.’

‘And?’

‘She was killed on the last pilgrimage. The King returned alone. Only he and Anna know what happened, he won’t talk about it with anyone else.’

Dean scowled. ‘His Kingly prerogative, I suppose.’

‘He was very close to Lady Celeste,’ Uriel said, catching Dean’s tone. ‘It hurts him to talk about it.’

Dean sighed but dropped the subject. ‘So you’re the blacksmith? You make armour and swords and stuff?’

Uriel raised an eyebrow. ‘Perceptive.’

‘I aim to please.’

‘Do you?’ Uriel fixed him with a piercing stare, and Dean got the distinct impression that Uriel could see right through him. Dean shifted uncomfortably, but was saved having to continue the conversation by Anna, returning with her arms full of chain mail.

‘This is for you,’ she said, shoving it into Dean’s hands. ‘Uriel will make you some plate armour too, but you shouldn’t need it. You can go now. You don’t want to be late for the feast.’ She bowed mockingly and Dean left the building perturbed by her attitude.

The tables had been set up by the time Dean arrived back at the castle, and most people were either sitting at one of the tables, or milling around on the grass, waiting for the musicians to finish testing their instruments. Dean hurried to put his new armour away, and stepped out onto the grass, the pin on his chest shining in the sun. He looked for Sam first, scanning the tables. He smirked as he saw Sam chatting enthusiastically with a blonde girl in a green dress. He tried not to distract them, but someone saw him and called out his name, and everyone turned to face him. They broke into applause, and Dean walked over, embarrassed.

‘A toast to my new Lionheart!’ the King’s voice rang out. He was standing at the head table, silver band still on his head, and gloved hand raising his goblet. His voice was bright, and a gracious smile adorned his face, but something about his expression, even from Dean’s distance away, seemed almost sad. ‘To Sir Dean!’

‘To Sir Dean!’ Goblets were raised to Dean, and he couldn’t stop the heat creeping up his neck. They all stared at him and he realised they were expecting him to say something. Nothing came to mind, and he didn’t have a goblet to raise, so all he said was, ‘Long live the King!’

‘Long live the King!’ they called back, and finally went back to their conversations.

Dean walked over to Sam, watching the King sit down and stare thoughtfully into his goblet without another word to anyone.

‘I thought you weren’t interested in socialising?’ Dean said to Sam, tearing his gaze away from the King.

Sam just shrugged. ‘I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.’ He glanced at the girl he had been talking to and rubbed his arm nervously.

Dean rolled his eyes. ‘Go and talk to her then.’ Sam grinned and ran off, and Dean slowly made his way over to the King’s table. The King didn’t look up when Dean sat beside him, so the two of them just quietly watched the crowd talking. Every so often the King would glance up at the mountain, sweeping his eyes across it, then looking back down at his goblet. Dean grew bored and fiddled with his pin. He took it off and tried to put it back on the right way around, but the King stopped him, laying a hand on his arm.

‘It isn’t upside down,’ he said quietly, fixing it back onto Dean’s chest. ‘I inverted it after my coronation, since the lightning power no longer exists. Now it’s a tree, for life and the power of healing.’

‘What do you mean the lightning power doesn’t exist?’ Dean asked, but the King didn’t answer, and the musicians finally struck up a tune. He was immediately approached and asked to dance by a pretty brunette woman. He did his best, not usually one for dancing, and found himself watching the King over her head. The King was eventually joined by Anna, who had changed into a grey dress, and talked quietly with her. They looked at him a few times, but kept to themselves for the most part.

Dean danced with many people, all of them trying to get to know him better, but none getting very far. He wasn’t interested in them knowing who he was or where he came from. When he began to tire, he shrugged off another request at a dance and sat back down, helping himself to the food that had been served. Sam was dancing with the same girl Dean had seen him with before, and leaned back in his seat. He thought he had been forgotten about, until the King approached him.

‘I should like a dance,’ said the King, holding a hand out to Dean.

Dean’s mouth twisted, but he could hardly ignore a request from the King. ‘Of course, your Majesty,’ he said, rising and letting the King lead.

‘My name is Castiel,’ he murmured, his mouth a hair’s breadth from Dean’s ear. ‘If we’re to spend some time together, you ought to call me by my name.’

Dean nodded, surprised.

‘Anna isn’t sure of you,’ Castiel continued, still in the same quiet voice so no one else could hear them.

‘Maybe she should have said something before I made my vows,’ Dean grumbled. He expected Castiel to chastise him for being rude about the sword master, but Dean was surprised again when Castiel just chuckled.

‘She can be quite short at times. Quick to make judgements. Though she isn’t often wrong,’ Castiel said, looking Dean right in the eye.

Dean felt the weight of the King’s power under his sharp gaze, and just barely stopped himself from shuddering in discomfort.

Castiel held his gaze for a moment, before finally breaking eye contact to look up at the mountain. ‘We will begin our diplomatic mission to Allinesse in a few days,’ he said, voice taking on a lighter tone. ‘Your brother will not be able to accompany us, but he is welcome to stay here.’

‘Thank you, your Majesty,’ Dean said, purposely not calling him Castiel, which did not go unnoticed.

Castiel narrowed his eyes, but didn’t comment, then the song ended. Dean stepped away from him, bowing politely.

‘You’re a good dancer,’ Dean said, smiling wickedly at Castiel.

‘Years of practice,’ Castiel sniped, then returning to his seat beside Anna.

Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam appeared at his side, flushed almost as red as his outfit.

‘I was just dancing with Jess,' he grinned.

‘Is that her name?’ Dean smirked. ‘I take it you’ll be all right here by yourself for a while, then?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re making the trip to Allinesse in a few days,’ he told Sam. ‘But he says you can’t come.’

Sam snorted. ‘Why would I want to go to Allinesse anyway? I’ll be fine here,’ he said, running a hand through his hair, though not before he checked that Jess was watching. ‘The question is, will _you_ be all right?’

‘Me?’

‘Are you certain you can last that long with him?’ he sniggered.

‘It won’t be just us,’ Dean scowled. ‘The royal guard will be coming too.’

‘Oh, great,’ Sam said sarcastically. ‘Have fun.’ He patted Dean on the shoulder and went back to Jess. 

Dean didn’t stay at the feast for much longer, and decided to return to his room once the sun had dipped behind the mountain. He thought he had managed to slip away, but jumped at the sound of Castiel’s voice calling out to him.

‘Had enough of the festivities already?’

Dean turned to face him, and found the King looking at him with curiosity, rather than annoyance. ‘It’s not really to my taste.’

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. ‘Are you certain we haven’t met? You seem so familiar to me.’

Dean’s stomach curled into a tight knot. ‘No,’ he said firmly.

Castiel’s gaze sharpened, but he held back his questioning, for the time being. ‘Goodnight, Lionheart,’ he said, a touch of derision in his voice.

‘And you, Your Majesty,’ Dean said, matching his tone and adding a taunting bow before turning to climb the stairs. He was momentarily afraid that he had upset Castiel, but he put it out of his mind and focused on the reason he was here. He wandered out onto his balcony, and stared up at the mountain. It wouldn’t be long now, until he could finally see where his father had died.

Though never far from his thoughts, something about the evening, the way he was dressed, and his proximity to the mountain made his memories of his father seem closer. The long-dulled pain of losing him was suddenly squeezing his heart again, but he would soon put it to rest.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Dragon67, Shadowhunters_VDfan, VegasGranny, Why_do_you_want_to_know, NoRest4Me and KelpietheThundergod for the comments!  
> I really appreciate the support and I'll see you again soon!


	3. Chapter Three

Castiel held court in the days before their journey, and Dean found the exercise tiresome. He was to stand at Castiel's side and look intimidating while the citizens lay their concerns before him.

Most issues only turned out to be petty squabbles over who stole whose chicken. Dean found it difficult to keep from falling asleep where he stood, and was amazed that Castiel could stand to pay attention at all, let alone carefully consider each argument and strive for a positive outcome for all those involved. Dean was even beginning to regret his decision to make the vows in the first place, when a man sobbing deeply approached the throne, breaking the tedium.

‘Your Majesty,’ the man stammered, hardly able to speak through his heart-wrenching weeping.

Castiel stood, concern etched onto his face. ‘What has happened?’ he asked.

‘They – they -’ The man snivelled, struggling to pull himself together before the King. ‘Raiders from the north,’ he choked out. ‘They came to my town and stole all of our food, and – and-’

Castiel waited, standing unnaturally still.

‘They killed everyone!’ the man wailed, sinking to his knees. ‘They’re all gone… my daughter-’ He couldn’t speak anymore, holding his head in his hands, muffling his sobs.

Castiel knelt before him. ‘I am so sorry,’ he murmured. ‘There is nothing I can do to return your loved ones to you, but you are safe here. You will want for nothing for the rest of your days, this I promise.’ Castiel escorted the man from the throne room himself, while a ringing silence settled over everyone else, including Dean.

When Castiel returned, Anna was with him, both of them looking thunderous. He addressed the remaining people still gathered. 

'Thank you all for coming today. I must prepare for the journey to Allinesse. I leave you all in Anna's capable hands. If you have any further concerns, you may come to her.' He bowed to them and removed his silver band, placing it on the throne. 

A round of 'Long live the King!' echoed through the room before he exited through the side door, beckoning for Dean and Walther to follow him. 

'Dean, you said you were stationed on the border, yes?' Castiel said, ruffling the parts of his hair that had been flattened by the silver band. 

Dean nodded. 

'Did you deal with raiders often? What were they like?' 

Dean was momentarily caught off guard by Castiel's intense stare, but hastily cleared his throat. 'They usually only came down in small groups. Twos and threes mostly, sometimes five at a time. Easy to chase away. I've never seen them stray far enough from the road to bother a village like that, let alone with the right numbers.' 

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. 'Walther, make arrangements for us to visit Gabriel.' 

Walther paled. 'But, Your Majesty-' 

'I said make the arrangements,' Castiel commanded. 

Walther bowed and hurried away. 

'Gabriel?' Dean asked. 

'Be prepared to leave in the morning,' Castiel said stiffly, without looking at him. 'We'll be gone longer than expected. You can meet the rest of the guard at the gate.' 

Dean rolled his eyes as Castiel turned away. He grumbled to himself as he repacked his bags for a longer journey. Sam came into his room just as he finished. 

'What's going on?' 

'We're going through the north on our way back from Allinesse,' Dean told him. 

Sam's forehead creased. 'Won't that be dangerous?' 

'Could be. That's what he needs me for though, right?' 

'This is so stupid, Dean. You don't like him, you don't even know him. Why are you risking your life for him?' 

'We've already talked about this, Sam, it's not about him. I have to get up that mountain, and if I have to keep the King alive to get there, I'm fine with that.' 

Sam scoffed and stormed back out of the room. 

Dean sat on the end of the bed and once again questioned his decision. Why was he doing this really? What good could come of climbing the mountain, when all he would see was the place his father died? But it was too late to change his mind now. He'd already taken the vows, so he had to see it through. 

Dean was out at the gate earlier than anyone else, the early morning dew still sparkling on the grass. Sam begrudgingly came out to say goodbye, glaring at him and his horse the entire time. 

'Have fun in Allinesse,' Sam grumbled. 

'I'm sure I will,' Dean said, catching sight of the guard approaching. 

Sam tutted, then hugged Dean tightly. 'Try not to die for him?' 

'I'll do my best,' Dean grinned, squeezing him hard. 'Now remember, there are a lot of books to read in there, and I expect them to all be read by the time I get back.' 

Sam rolled his eyes and retreated back inside the castle, giving Dean one last mournful look along the way. 

The rest of the guard arrived, laughing jovially, leading their horses. There were six of them in total, all wearing the same grey uniform and chainmail, with the King's sigil emblazoned across their chests. Dean realised with a jolt that he knew one of them. 

'Benny?' he said. 

The man closest to him grinned widely. 'Well I'll be, Dean, is that you?' 

Dean laughed and hugged Benny, slapping him on the back. It had been years since they were in the same garrison. 'Is this where you've been? I can't believe this.' 

'What are you doing here?' Benny asked. 'You of all people, protecting the King?' 

'Could ask you the same question.' 

'Well, I get time off to spend with my little girl, unlike some people,' Benny said, elbowing Dean. 

'Who needs time off?' Dean laughed. 'You know me, gotta keep moving. That uniform is really something, you know.' 

'You're one to talk, Sir Lionheart,' Benny sniggered, looking up and down at Dean's red jacket and scabbard. 

'At least people know who I am,' Dean teased. 

Benny rolled his eyes. 'Because that's what we all want. Come here, let me introduce you to the boys.' 

' _ Knights,'  _ a skinny, light-haired man corrected. 

'Are you sure about that?' said Benny, putting the other knight in a headlock. 'Can you even lift that sword? This is Alfie, by the way. He's new.' 

'I can see that. Nice to meet you, Alfie.' 

Alfie shoved Benny away, stumbling slightly and laughing breathlessly. 

Before Benny could introduce anyone else, Castiel approached leading his horse. All his finery was gone, in favour of simple riding clothes, and a plain leather satchel that he held close to his body. The laughter in the air died when he reached them. The guard immediately parted so Castiel could take the lead, and bowed as he passed. Then they all fell back, waiting for Dean to pass and join Castiel. 

'So, what's the plan?' Dean asked Castiel, to barely concealed sniggers. 'What, am I supposed to know?' 

Castiel shot him a chilly glance. 'We're riding west to the coast,' he said, checking the straps on the horse's saddle. 'Then we'll sail north to Allinesse and renew our treaty. Then we'll travel south through Allinesse and into our northern territory. Does that work for you, Dean, or should I run that by you again?' 

Someone sucked in a breath behind them. 

'No, that's fine, Your Majesty,' Dean said, prickling. 

'Let's go.' Castiel mounted his horse and trotted through the gate without waiting for the rest of them. 

'Is he always like this?' Dean asked Benny quietly, climbing onto his own horse. 

Benny shook his head. 'He had Lady Celeste last time. She was a firecracker. Kept him in a good mood.' 

'Wonderful.' 

'Good luck with that,' Benny chuckled. 

'Keeping him happy isn't in my job description. What happened to Lady Celeste?' 

Benny shrugged. 'All we know is that she never came down the mountain.' 

Dean sighed and looked at Castiel, who was several feet ahead, oblivious to their conversation. 'I suppose I'd better…' He sighed again and spurred his horse on, catching up to the King. 

'You've decided to do your job, I see,' Castiel sniped. 

'Well, I did promise,' Dean joked, but the King didn't even crack a smile. 

They rode in silence, Castiel staring straight ahead, but Dean twisted in his saddle to look back at the mountain. It was the same as it always was, and the breeze carried a beckoning whisper to Dean. He ignored it. He would be back soon. 

'Is there anything I can do to help improve your mood?' Dean asked. Castiel just gave him a sharp look, and he eventually grew bored of travelling in silence, so dropped back to talk with the guard. 

Castiel didn't say another word until he commanded them to stop for the night alongside a small stream, dismounting his horse and handing Alfie the reins. He pitched his tent alone and disappeared inside it, leaving the rest of them to laugh and joke around the campfire they built. 

Bowls of hot stew were passed around once the sun had set, and Dean glanced at the King's tent. He hesitated, then climbed to his feet with a steaming bowl and stepped over to the tent. He stood with the bowl in one hand, and the other hovering over the entrance. He put his hand to the canvas, then tutted and put the bowl on the floor. Castiel could get it himself. 

Soon, everyone was stretching and yawning, so Dean stood, clapping his hands together. 'All right, everybody get some sleep. I'll take first watch.' He waited until everyone was settled for the night, then paced around the perimeter of their camp a few times, before stopping in front of Castiel's tent again. He sighed deeply and sunk to the floor, leaning against the taut canvas with his sword across his knees. It was a clear night, and the stars twinkled at him. The stream babbled quietly, and every so often one of the horses nickered or tossed its head. If he listened carefully, he could hear the other knights snuffling in their sleep, but there was no sound coming from inside Castiel's tent. Dean looked down to see that the bowl he'd left there was gone, and he smiled. He swept the horizon with his eyes for a few more hours before shaking Benny awake to take over. 

The next day was much the same, though Castiel's icy demeanour appeared to have melted somewhat. He still didn't say much, but he wished Dean a good morning before mounting his horse and riding ahead. Dean again rode with Benny and Alfie, keeping an eye on the King as they travelled through soft grassland. The warm sun and lush fields always put Dean in a good mood, but the frolicking rabbits and fluttering birds did nothing to soften Castiel's scowl. If anything, it made him stiffer and set his jaw even tighter. 

Late afternoon saw the fields turn into hills, and salty air wafted over them on the breeze. 

'We'll stop here for the night,' Castiel said as the sun sank behind the hills. 'We should reach the port around midday tomorrow.' 

Dean took first watch again, situating himself outside Castiel's tent. Hours passed, and Dean was thinking about waking Benny when he heard a rustle and yanked his sword from its sheath, but it was just Castiel emerging from his tent. 

'Nice to see you paying attention,' Castiel said quietly. 

Dean rolled his eyes and sheathed his sword again. 'What are you doing?' 

The King ignored him, brushing past him towards one of the larger hills. Dean followed him, jabbing Benny on his way past, so someone could watch the camp. They climbed up to the crest of the hill, where Castiel sat down cross-legged, breathing deeply as the sea breeze ruffled his hair. Dean watched him awkwardly. 

'I've always loved the ocean,' Castiel said, nodding at the slim strip of waves they could see in the distance, glittering in the moonlight. 

'Not a huge fan of it myself,' said Dean, sitting beside him. 'I can't swim.' 

'You can't swim?' Castiel said, shocked, and Dean shook his head. 'You should have told me.' 

Dean shrugged. 'I don't see what difference it makes. If I'm thrown into the sea, I'm not likely to survive, whether or not I can swim.' 

'That's rather morbid.'

'Practical,' Dean corrected. 'If you're aware of all the ways you might die, you can see it coming.' 

'I'm confused. Do you think you'll die at sea?' 

'Not at all. I'm far too handsome to die where no one can see my body.' 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. 'You certainly think highly of yourself.' 

'I do indeed.'

Castiel shook his head. 'Why are you here? Why did you volunteer to be my Lionheart? I'm sure it wasn't out of love for your King.' 

Dean didn't answer for a moment. If he told Castiel the truth he would never let Dean up the mountain. 'My brother always wanted to live in a castle,' he lied. 'As charming as I am, I was never going to get one with that alone. I saw an opportunity.' 

'That's as good a motive as any, I suppose.' Castiel stood up again and made his way back to his tent. 'Goodnight, Dean,' he said, before going inside. 

'Goodnight, Your Majesty,' Dean said, bowing only slightly less mockingly than he had been before. 

It was slower going as they went through the hills, the uneven footing forcing the horses to carefully pick their way along the road. The hills finally gave way to soft dunes and Castiel took them down to the water's edge, where the sand was firm enough for the horses to walk comfortably on. Dean saw him visibly relax as he listened to the waves, and the tension between him and the guard eased. Laughter flowed freely as they made their way to the port. 

Even from their distance away, they could see that it bustled with activity, and the King's ship waited for them. Almost every inch of the wood had been polished until it gleamed in the sun. The sails were all crisp white, tied down by new, smooth ropes. As they approached, they could see the plaque that said the ship's name bolted to the hull of the ship, reading  _ Era  _ in tall, golden lettering. 

As soon as they set foot in the port, they were surrounded by people removing their bags from the horses and bowing to Castiel. Their bags were then carried onto the ship, and their horses led aboard and below deck, where they would be secured for the voyage. Castiel was first on board, where the crew were waiting for him. He dismissed them to their posts and the guards followed him, removing their mail as they went below deck. 

Dean was last aboard, hesitantly creeping along the gangplank. He'd been on small boats to hop across rivers, but nothing of this size. He could already feel the waves gently rocking the ship, and he was unsteady on the deck. He stumbled over to Castiel, who was talking with the captain. 

'This your new Lionheart?' the captain asked, looking Dean up and down, raising an eyebrow when Dean tripped over. 'Is he qualified?' 

'He's good enough,' said Castiel. 

Dean scowled. 'How long is this going to take?' he asked, holding his arms out to steady himself. 

'Weather depending, it should only take a few days.'

Dean nodded. 'Where am I sleeping?'

'In my quarters with me,' said Castiel. 'Come. I'll show you where it is.' 

Dean stumbled again as Castiel walked across the deck, almost falling on one of the several bristling ballistae strapped to the deck. 

'Don't worry, you'll get used to it,' Castiel said, his voice tinged with amusement. 

The King's quarters were at the stern of the ship. They were spacious, with two beds separated by a screen. Much of the walls were taken up by thick glass windows, with wide benches covered in soft cushions and blankets. The sun streamed in through the windows, warming the whole room. 

'This one's mine,' Dean said immediately, going to the bed nearest the window. He set his bag down and tested the bed. It was almost as soft as the one he had at the castle, but not quite. 

Castiel rolled his eyes and went to the other bed. He knelt down and carefully placed his satchel inside the metal chest at the foot of his bed, locking it inside. 

'What's that?' Dean asked curiously. 

Castiel glanced at him. 'My crown,' he murmured. 

Dean grimaced. The last time he'd seen it was at Castiel's coronation. He'd been all the way at the back, so he couldn't see the young King's face, but he saw the crown slip down over Castiel's eyes well enough, and heard the gathered audience laugh derisively. 

'We set sail in a couple of hours,' Castiel said, getting gracefully to his feet. 'If you want something to eat, the galley is downstairs.' He sat down on his bed, pulling a scroll out of one of his bags. He began reading, a frown forming between his eyebrows. 

'Do you want anything?' Dean asked awkwardly. 

'No, thank you,' Castiel said, without looking up. 'You should take off your mail. If you do happen to fall overboard, it won't help your chances.' 

'You never know, I might be all right.' 

'True. All your hot air might keep you afloat.' 

Dean shook his head, struggling to keep his mouth shut. He wasn't that hungry, but he had no desire to sit in thorny silence with the King, so he yanked off his chainmail and left the room, descending into the depths of the ship. 

'Shouldn't you be holding the King's hand?' Benny said when Dean found him. 

'I'm allowed to get something to eat, apparently.' 

It was much more lively in the mess hall. The King's guard and the crew of the ship laughed and joked loudly together, eating, challenging each other to arm wrestles, and showing each other their weapons. 

'Does he get any better?' Dean asked, and Benny chuckled. 

'Depends how well the treaty talks go in Allinesse. That usually puts him in a good enough mood.' 

'What do you mean by good enough?' 

'Good enough to stop snapping at you.' 

'I suppose that's all we can hope for.' 

All too soon a bell sounded from above, summoning them all to the deck. The King was already waiting for them, leaning against the railing, holding onto the rigging, staring out at the ocean. 

The captain ordered his crew to take their posts and prepare to sail, so Dean went to Castiel's side, still unsteady on his feet. 

'Careful,' Castiel murmured, catching Dean before he really did pitch over the side of the ship. 

Dean's cheeks blazed and he pulled his arm out of Castiel's grip. 

'You'll want to watch this.' 

The captain took his place at the helm, shouting yet more orders. The huge sails unfurled, lowering down the masts, catching wind when they were tethered in place. Dean was impressed until the ship surged forward and he fell flat on his back, accompanied by a gale of laughter. 

Castiel offered Dean a hand and yanked him to his feet, almost sympathetically. 'You'll get used to it,' he said again. 

Dean sighed. It was going to be a long journey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks to VegasGranny and Why_do_you-want_to_know for the comments! See you again next time!


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Dean stumbled across the deck and hung limply over the railings. As soon as the ship was at full sail Dean had begun to feel queasy, and spent much of the first day vomiting over the side of the ship. He'd seen the same, almost sympathetic expression on the King's face, but it only made him feel worse. Most of the crew tried different things to make him feel better, including feeding him chunks of plain bread and making him lie flat on the deck. None of it helped, and eventually, Castiel suggested he get some rest. 

Sleeping didn't help either, and he woke up just as ill as he had been the night before. 

He dressed slowly and once he was out of the cabin, Alfie suggested they spar, under the impression that focusing on something else would help. He only managed a few blows before he dropped his sword and heaved. 

The spray from the waves on his face was so far the only thing that made him feel marginally better, and Castiel joined him at the railing after a while. 

Castiel was completely comfortable, feet planted firmly on the deck. He hadn't fallen or even stumbled once, and he strode around confidently. Dean shot him a brief, resentful look before the movement of the ship once again churned his stomach. He retched emptily, having nothing left to vomit. 

'You look like you're suffering,' said Castiel. 

'Not at all, I do this for fun,' Dean croaked, wiping sweat from his face with a shaking hand. 

'This is your first time on a real ship?' 

'What makes you say that?' 

Castiel rolled his eyes. 'My first time was terrible. I couldn't even get out of bed. This should help.' 

He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and warmth spread through him, dissolving his nausea and clearing his head. 

Dean stood up straight up, blinking, and looked at Castiel. He was slightly paler than before and had clasped his hands together. Dean could only manage a surprised stammer with no actual words. 

'A Lionheart should be sharp and prepared,' said Castiel, leaning against the railing. 'I can't have you hanging over the side of the ship the whole time. It wouldn't exactly be a good impression when we reach Allinesse either.' He pulled a small piece of bread from his pocket and slowly nibbled it. 

Dean clamped his mouth shut. Questions swirled in his mind. He was almost certain that the King had just healed him, but he knew he couldn't ask about such a sensitive subject where anyone could hear him. The King, however, was looking queasy himself. 'Are - are you all right?' he asked, leaning closer to Castiel to keep his voice low. 

'I'm fine thank you, Dean,' Castiel said, with the faintest hint of a smile. 

Dean forced himself not to stare and looked back out at the ocean. Then movement below them, where the waves hit the ship, caught his eye. He tilted his head to get a better look at the swirling blackness painting the water beneath them. 'What's that?' he asked, pointing at it. 

Castiel peered at it, then leapt away from the railings. 'Captain!' he yelled, sprinting across the deck. 'Kraken!' 

'Where?' the captain asked, emerging from the captain's quarters. 

'Under our starboard side!' 

The captain began barking orders. 'Load the ballistae! Tether yourselves down! You, get down from that crow's nest now!' 

Everyone leapt into action. The King's guard all burst onto the deck at the call, swords drawn, and helped load the huge, deadly bolts. The crew raised the sails to try and minimise any damage to the delicate cloth. 

Dean's hand flew to his sword, but something huge and powerful slammed into the hull of the ship, sending it skittering across the deck. Dean himself managed to keep his balance and he tried to chase after it, but the King grabbed him and yanked him over to the main mast, towards heavy iron pegs that ringed the thick wooden mast. He was stronger than Dean was expecting. There was another slam against the ship, a gigantic tentacle rose out of the churning, black ocean and smacked against the deck, splintering the boards beneath their feet. Dean gaped at it. It was bright red, rubbery and covered in huge suckers, he'd never seen anything like it. 

' _ Dean!'  _ Castiel yelled, yanking his arm again. Once Dean was close enough to the mast, Castiel hurriedly pulled a rope tightly around his waist, knotting it as tightly as he could. 

Another tentacle rose up and smashed down on the deck, sending everything flying, including Dean and Castiel. 

Dean reacted in a split second. He was tied down, but the King wasn't, so he clutched at Castiel, pulling him into his own chest, holding onto him with all his might. 

They thumped down onto the deck with a smack, and Dean knelt in front of Castiel, holding him by the shoulders. 'Are you all right?' 

Castiel just looked at him dazedly. 

'Are you hurt?' Dean shouted at him, finally getting a vague shake of the head from him. Dean then grabbed another length of rope and made sure Castiel was secured before staggering to his feet. 

Another tentacle had appeared, and much of the railing on the starboard side of the ship was gone when Dean stopped to take stock of the situation. Some crew members were lying motionless on the deck, and those that were left were desperately hacking at the tentacles. There were only two ballistae remaining that hadn't been smashed to bits, so Dean ran to the nearest one, scooping up his sword as he went. 

Dean threw his whole body at the heavy ballista, turning it so it was aimed at the Kraken. He pulled the lever and it spiked one of the slippery tentacles. A screech filled the air and all the tentacles flailed around, destroying more of the ship. Dean dove out of the way just as a tentacle flew towards him and swept the ballista away. 

Dean rolled away, skidding across the wood and launching himself at the one remaining ballista. He heaved this one in the right direction, but hesitated. There was only one bolt, so it had to make a difference. He waited for the right moment to come, gripping the ballista. At last, the Kraken raised its horrible, shiny head, fixing one of its dinner plate sized eyes on the deck. Dean pulled down the ballista, his arms burning with the weight of it, a snarl escaping past his gritted teeth, and aimed. 

The bolt whistled through the air and met its mark, piercing the Kraken through its giant eye and through the other side. The wail it made this time was loud and terrible, forcing Dean and the rest of the crew to cover their ears. 

The Kraken swayed around, screeching and drenching everything in its blood. 

Dean tried to make his way over to where Castiel was still sitting, but one of the Kraken's still flailing limbs caught him under the chin, throwing him through the air. He landed awkwardly on his arm, and cracked his head hard on the deck, knocking him out cold. 

When Dean woke up, he was lying on his bed, sunlight streaming through the windows. He remembered landing on his arm, but when he moved it experimentally, there was no pain at all. He ran a hand over the back of his head, but there was no pain there either, and not so much as a bump. He pushed himself up and saw the King sitting in the window, sleeping soundly, his head resting against the glass. 

He looked peaceful as he slept, and Dean remembered with a jolt that Castiel only had four years to his twenty. The heavy bags under his eyes, and the crease he wore between his eyebrows when he was awake made him appear older. 

Castiel had been just fourteen when he assumed the throne, and was now approaching the tenth year of his reign. Dean remembered how small and frightened he'd looked at his coronation. His thick coronation cloak had hung loosely at his shoulders, as he had not yet grown into it. 

'I didn't laugh at you, you know,' Dean said, and Castiel opened his eyes. 'At your coronation. I didn't think it was all that funny.' 

'You didn't?' 

Dean shook his head. 'I thought it was sad. You'd just lost your father, same as I had, and I thought you must be scared.' 

'You lost your father?' 

'In the war,' Dean said, which wasn't strictly a lie. 

Castiel sighed. 'How do you feel? Do you have any pain?' 

'No.' Dean was silent for a beat. 'Did you heal me?' 

'Yes.' 

'But why don't you have the lightning power? I thought all the monarchs did.' 

Castiel's eyes flicked to the door and he stood up unsteadily, to sit by Dean on his bed instead. 'You're a Lionheart now, so you should know this. Can I trust you not to tell anyone?' 

Dean gave him a surprised look. 'Of - of course.' 

Castiel took a deep breath and, without looking at Dean, said, 'The goddess Era is dead.' 

Dean's whole body went numb. No words would come, so Castiel continued talking. 

'The goddess Millennia gives us the blessing instead, but she can only bestow the healing power.' 

Dean opened and closed his mouth, unable to form his thoughts into coherent sentences. 'But-but -  _ dead? How?'  _

'Killed by my uncle. He tricked her into giving him the lightning power and he killed her with it. That's what killed my father. The ceremony creates a bond between the monarch and the goddess, and if anything happens to her they both die.' 

All Dean could do was stare. Never could he have imagined that a goddess could be killed. 

Castiel swayed and held his head in his hands. 'Apologies, I healed several of the crew as well.' 

Dean frowned. The previous King had used the lightning power whenever he feasibly could, relishing the chance to display his strength. 'Is it supposed to affect you like this?' 

Castiel shook his head. 'The ceremony went badly. I was too young to perform it correctly, and Millennia hadn't bestowed her power before. Neither of us knew how to do it properly. I can still use it, but…' Castiel stopped to take a gulp of water and eat a small bite of bread. 'It's very draining.'

Dean nodded, astounded. 

Castiel closed his eyes. 'You mustn't tell anyone about this, Dean. As a Lionheart, this information is important to your duties, but it's vital that no one else knows. We can't expose any weakness, do you understand?' 

Dean nodded. 

Castiel seemed to relax, and he got up to lie on his own bed. 'You should go and get something to eat,' he said. 'You'll need it.' 

Dean hopped up out of bed and moved towards the door. 'Do you - do you want anything?' he asked uncertainly. 'I could bring you something.' 

'No, thank you.' 

Dean left him to rest, closing the door quietly. Alfie was standing outside, keeping guard. 

'No one in here but me,' Dean said, and Alfie nodded. 

'Is everything all right?' 

'It's fine, he just wants some time alone.' 

'Got it.' 

Dean emerged from below deck to the strong smell of fish. Some of the crew were scrubbing blood from the deck and others had begun attempting to repair the railings. A cheer went up when one of them saw him, and soon the rest of the crew were shouting and stamping their feet. 

'We're having Kraken tonight,' Benny grinned, clapping Dean on the back. 'Incredible kill, brother.' 

'Well, I am highly skilled,' Dean laughed. 'How else would I make Lionheart?' 

'I don't think it counts if no one else would do it.'

'You're hilarious,' said Dean. He surveyed the deck. 'How bad is the damage anyway?' 

'No damage to the sails,' said Benny. 'The most serious damage is to the hull down there.' He nodded towards a cluster of men lowering someone down the side of the ship. 'Captain says it'll delay us a couple days while they repair it.' 

'Oh good, stranded at sea with only one weapon we can use, just what I wanted.' 

Benny just shrugged. 'Nothing we can do about it. You seem a lot better than you were earlier anyway. The King work his magic?' 

'That he did,' Dean smiled. 

Dean pitched in for the rest of the day, helping to clean up the mess the Kraken had left. The sun sank in the sky and the captain had them all stop when it touched the horizon. 

They all settled out on the deck while drinks and platters of grilled Kraken were brought out. It was very tasty, if pungent, and Dean helped himself to a second serving. 

The King appeared when the sun had fully set and the stars twinkled in the sky. Everyone stood up to bow, and he nodded stiffly back, grabbing himself a plate and wandering over to the railings to stare out the ocean. 

Dean clambered to his feet and joined Castiel. He looked fresh and well-rested. 'You're feeling better?' Dean asked. 

'Much, thank you,' Castiel said, but there were still anxious lines in his forehead, and his gaze was pensive. 

'Is something wrong?' 

'The Kraken was on the wrong side of the ship,' Castiel said quietly. 

'What does that mean?' 

'It was between us and the coast, when it usually never comes anywhere near the shore. Something disturbed it.' 

'That could have been anything though,' Dean said nervously. 

'It could have been,' Castiel agreed, but his sharp gaze gave away his suspicion. 

Dean looked up at the stars and quickly worked out their position. 'We're passing the northern territory, aren't we?' 

Castiel nodded. 'I expect we'll see some "curious fishermen" tomorrow, coming to see if the Kraken did its job.' 

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the guard and crew celebrating. 'Are you joining us?' he asked. 

'Not tonight,' Castiel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon. 

'All right,' Dean shrugged. He turned away, but Castiel briefly caught his arm. 

'You did well today.' 

'Thank you,' Dean said, surprised, and Castiel let go. 

Dean spent the evening glancing up at the King, but he barely moved until it everyone began to disappear below deck. He and Dean were the last to leave, and Castiel went to bed in silence. 

Dean slept more soundly than he had the whole journey, and awoke to the sun peeking over the horizon. He sat up blearily and saw Castiel already awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed reading through sheaves of paper. 

'Are you always up this early?' Dean mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

Castiel shook his head. 'You snore.' 

'Oh. Sorry.' 

Castiel just shrugged without looking up. 

Dean stood up and stretched. 'Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?' 

'No.' 

Dean didn't know how to respond, so he just left the room, his own stomach grumbling for food. Benny was outside, standing guard at the door. 

'Morning,' Benny grinned. 'How is His Majesty today?' 

'I don't know,' Dean said. 'He seems fine, but he's so hard to read, you know?' 

'You do it better than me,' said Benny. 'He and I tend to keep out of each others' way. Anyway, it's Kraken for breakfast, I hope you're not sick of it already. '

Dean snorted. 'I could eat Kraken all day.' 

Now that Castiel had healed his seasickness, Dean was finally able to enjoy walking around on deck. He ate his breakfast with his legs hanging down the side of the ship, then went for a few practice spars with Alfie, now that he could keep his balance. He disarmed Alfie every time, until Alfie got bored of losing and swapped posts with Benny. 

Once the sun had properly risen, the crew got back to work repairing the hull of the ship, and small fishing boats began to appear and Castiel came up from their cabin to watch them. 

The air was instantly tense when he came up with his sword on his hip, and the rest of the guard double checked their own weapons. 

One of the fishermen was brave enough to come closer and call up to them. 

'That's some mighty fine damage on your ship there,' he shouted. 'What happened?' 

Castiel didn't answer, he just glared down at the man, so Benny answered for him. 

'Just some trouble with a little old Kraken,' he called down. 'Nothing the Lionheart can't handle.' He slapped Dean on the shoulder and turned away. 'That ought to scare Gabriel out of his shenanigans,' he said so the fisherman wouldn't hear. 

The fishing boats milled around for a few more hours, until it was quite clear that Castiel had not only survived, but was completely unharmed. Castiel gave a small smile as they began to row away. 

The next day saw the last of the repairs to the ship, and they were at last ready to set sail again. 

'We'll manage the rest of the way to Allinesse like this, but some of the masts and rigging need looking at before we can come back, and of course the ballistae need replacing,' the captain explained to Dean and Castiel, 'so our departure might be delayed.' 

'That's all right, we're riding home, so you'll probably return before us anyway. Do whatever you need for the ship.' 

'Of course, your Majesty.' The captain bowed to him. 

'There's no need for that,' Castiel said uncomfortably. 'This is your ship.' 

The sails were unfurled, and the captain took the helm once more. The ship at last moved again, just as a chilly mist began to descend, and it wasn't long before they were all soaked through. Dean grabbed his and the King's cloaks from their cabin, but Castiel did not seem at all bothered by the cold. He stood at the prow of the ship, one hand on the railings, looking straight ahead with his dark hair plastered to his face. 

'Prepare yourself to meet Queen Naomi,' he said. 'Think carefully before you answer any questions. She's extremely perceptive.' 

'Thanks for the warning.' 

'It would be better if you weren't so familiar with me when we meet her.' 

Castiel didn't look at him, but Dean could already see he was becoming more tense. 

'Not a problem,' Dean said, though he didn't understand what Castiel meant. He didn't feel they were that familiar at all, but he could tell that now wasn't the time to argue. 

Dean didn't want to stand in the rain any longer, but something told him not to leave the King alone just then, so they stood together in silence, watching the water flow over the deck of the ship. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks to VegasGranny, Dragon67 and Why_do_you_want_to_know for the comments!


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

  
  


Two days later, the _Era_ finally limped into the port of Allinesse, and Castiel commanded all his guard to dress nicely and put their armour back on.

Dean shoved on his red jacket and short cloak, pinning Castiel's sigil to his chest and wrapping his scarf around his neck. He looked out of the huge windows, but there was nothing to see. The mist that descended on them had only thickened into a heavy fog, so all there was to look at was the dense white clouds and the frothing waves at the side of the ship. Dean was waiting for Castiel to finish changing, and the rustling sound behind the screen told him the King wasn't quite done yet, so he collapsed back onto his bed, growing bored.

'How long does it take for you to get dressed?' Dean groaned.

'There are a lot of layers,' Castiel grumbled, 'and you can't speak to me that way.'

'Of course, I'm sorry. I meant to say: how long does it take for you to get dressed, _Your Majesty?'_

Castiel poked his head around the screen with a disapproving frown. 'If you can't address me properly in private, at least make an effort in front of Queen Naomi, or anyone in Allinesse for that matter.'

'Are you going to fire me if I don't?'

'Please stop. Are you ready?'

'I've been ready for a while now.'

'Then let's go.'

Castiel finally came out from behind the screen, resplendent in deep blue velvet, trimmed with silver, a long, thick cloak, and rich black leather gloves. Shining silver chains lay across his chest, his sigil dangling from them.

Dean whistled. 'You look great.'

'There's no need to make fun of me,' said Castiel, frowning again.

'No, I mean it.'

Castiel just rolled his eyes and knelt down in front of the chest at the foot of his bed, carefully lifting out the crown.

It had been a long time since Dean had seen it, and never up close. It was entirely made of delicate, woven silver. It had no jewels or expensive velvet, but it shone so brightly Dean could hardly believe it was real. The silver filaments were so fine and intricate, it couldn't possibly have been made by human hands.

Castiel took a deep breath as he put it on, as though he expected it to fall down, reliving his humiliation all over again. Thankfully, it now fit snugly about his ears. He smoothed out the small creases in his cloak and pasted a smile on his face.

'Let's go.'

The crew of the ship were waiting for them, so they could formally disembark, forming a line either side of the gangplank to bow to Castiel as he passed. Benny, Alfie and the rest of the guard fell into step behind Dean. All of them had serious expressions, having all been to Allinesse before.

Castiel alighted first, striding across the gangplank, and waited on the cobblestones below.

Dean followed close behind, stumbling when he walked on solid ground. The King caught him under the arm, shooting him a concerned look, to which Dean replied with a slight shake of the head.

Castiel nodded and looked up at a wide, cobbled street. The fog still rolled through the air, so the buildings around were nothing but shadowy shifting shapes, looming overhead.

'What are we waiting for?' Dean asked, the fog muffling his voice.

'Hush,' Castiel whispered irritably.

They all stood stock still, in silence, waiting.

At last, Dean saw figures walking through the fog, and he noticed Castiel's shoulders tighten.

A woman who Dean assumed to be the Queen stepped up to Castiel, accompanied by six of her own guard.

Her copper hair was pulled back in a severe bun, adorned with a small, simple crown of her own. Her grey dress was plain, but high quality, and she curtsied to Castiel.

He bowed politely back. 'It's good to see you, Naomi.'

'And you, Castiel.' Her eyes swept over the guard, whom she'd seen before, and landed on Dean.

'The Lionheart, Sir Dean,' Castiel said.

Dean took Queen Naomi's hand and bowed deeply to kiss it. Castiel shot him a brief, sharp look, but said nothing.

'You're late,' Queen Naomi said coldly, staring right into Castiel's eyes.

Dean resisted cringing. Queen Naomi was clearly sharp, and more than comfortable with the power she wielded. He was almost impressed by the warm smile Castiel gave her.

'Apologies,' he said politely. 'We were set upon by a Kraken along the way, there was some damage to the ship.'

Naomi nodded stiffly. 'I imagine it needs some repairs. Your men may remain in the port until it is safe to sail again. I'll have someone stable your horses.'

'You're too kind.'

'Come, it's cold out here.' Naomi turned on her heel and led them through the port town.

Once her back was turned, Dean gripped the hilt of his sword, peering through the fog as best he could.

There was no one around, and the only sound were their footsteps on the cobbles. It was eerie. A port this size should have been bustling and noisy, but there was only silence. Dean's eyes flicked back and forth, trying to work out where all the people whose eyes he felt on him were.

At the edge of the town, Naomi directed them to the horse-drawn carriages waiting for them.

They were small, only fitting four people each, which Dean strongly suspected Naomi had done on purpose, and he climbed into one after Castiel and Naomi.

'How long have you been Castiel's Lionheart?' Naomi asked.

Dean thought about his answer. Her words and smile were polite and curious, but her gaze was razor sharp. 'Long enough,' Dean said.

The carriages trundled from the port town and the fog finally thinned out, revealing cold, damp, marshy countryside. It too was all but empty. There were a few toad calls, their croaks sounding louder at the absence of any other animal calls.

Castiel and Naomi exchanged pleasantries and small talk, but Dean didn't say a word. Their surroundings put him on edge, and he could tell that the King was tense, despite his pleasant tone of voice.

Soon, they came to Naomi's castle. It was short and compact, huddling into itself to hold in the heat and keep out the fine drizzle that never seemed to stop.

The carriages came to a stop outside and they all followed Naomi into the shelter of the building. She commanded that the guard be shown to their rooms.

'And the Lionheart will be staying-'

'With me,' Castiel interrupted. 'He stays with me.'

Naomi narrowed her eyes, but said, 'Of course.' She led them deeper into the castle, bringing them into her throne room. It was simple, simpler even than Castiel's, but where Castiel's had a certain charm, Naomi's was bleak and unwelcoming.

She took her seat upon her throne, and beckoned forward a girl and her mother from the shadows behind her. 'I hope you don't mind,' Naomi said, her smile hardening, 'we've had a problem with imposters. They've all been very good likenesses of you.'

Cas's expression turned from confusion to understanding in a moment, and he looked down at the girl. She was crying quietly and holding her arm. He knelt down in front of her, taking off one of his gloves.

'It's all right,' he said softly, reaching out to her. 'I won't hurt you. What's your name?'

The girl was pushed forward by her mother. 'Leah,' she squeaked, sniffing.

'Hello, Leah. What happened to your arm?'

'She fell out of a tree,' her mother said.

'Will you let me see it?'

Leah nodded and allowed Castiel to gingerly hold her arm.

He took a deep breath and placed his bare hand over the break in her arm, and Leah immediately stopped crying.

'Better?' the King murmured.

'Thank you,' Leah grinned, rubbing her arm in wonder.

Castiel straightened and looked at Naomi. 'I trust that will be sufficient?'

'Thank you for humouring me, Castiel.'

Castiel put his glove back on, and Dean noticed the tiniest tremor as he did. 'Might I retire to my chambers? It's been a long journey, I would like to rest before the feast tonight.'

'Of course. You remember the way?'

'I do.' Castiel bowed to her, motioning for Dean to do the same, then swept from the room.

Dean hurried after him through the castle, until they came to a door with Benny waiting outside. He realised they must be at the King's chambers and slowed to wait outside, but Castiel gestured for him to follow. He gave Benny a quizzical look, who shrugged, and opened the door for them both.

Once inside, Castiel turned to Dean, taking off his crown.

'Are you all right?' Dean asked, alarmed at how exhausted Castiel suddenly looked, and the grey tinge to his lips.

'Hold this,' Castiel mumbled, hastily handing Dean the crown. He took a step towards the bed, but then lurched sideways and collapsed. Dean only just managed to catch him before he hit the ground.

Dean stood, in the middle of the room, the crown dangling from one arm and holding up the King with the other, and, not for the first time, contemplated exactly why he'd got himself into this. He awkwardly placed the crown onto a chair, then lifted Castiel onto the bed, removing his cloak for him, ensuring he wouldn't get tangled in it. Dean then moved the crown from the chair to the bedside table, then sat down in it, one eye on the door and the other on the King.

It was still gloomy outside, but Dean could see people below, unloading what little they had brought with them from more carriages, and leading the horses around the side of the castle. Castiel was unnaturally still at first, and Dean kept getting up to check he was breathing, until the King began twitching in his sleep. Dean caught himself breathing a sigh of relief and shook his head, surprised at the concern he'd felt.

Dean waited until Castiel finally came around with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly. He looked from his crown to Dean, struggling to grasp his surroundings.

Castiel sighed and rubbed his face. 'Will you bring me that bag?' he asked, pointing at a small pouch sitting on top of their pile of things. 'And some water?'

Dean did as he asked and pulled his chair closer to the bed. 'What happened?' he said, watching Castiel pull dried biscuits out of the pouch and crunching them between his teeth. 'It wasn't that bad when you healed me. It was just a broken arm, right?'

Castiel's eyes darted to the door and back again. He took a gulp of water before answering Dean's question. 'There was a growth in her brain,' he said quietly. 'It would have killed her.'

'You could feel that?'

Castiel nodded. He brushed the crumbs from his fingers and wrapped himself back up in his cloak.

'Does Naomi know it does this to you?'

'She suspects,' Castiel said, glancing at the door again. 'She always has these "tests" for me. She hasn't caught me out yet, but that last one came close. She can't know.'

Dean nodded. 'My lips are sealed,' he said, standing up.

'Where are you going?'

'To get food. I haven't eaten anything except Kraken for days. Do you want something?'

'You can't leave,' Castiel frowned. 'You have to stay with me at all times during diplomatic missions.'

'What?'

'It's in the Lionheart scrolls, didn't you read them?'

'I skimmed them.'

Castiel put a hand to his forehead. 'Unbelievable,' he muttered.

'I'm hungry,' Dean said defensively.

Castiel sighed and got unsteadily to his feet. He walked to the other side of the room and pulled aside a thin curtain, pulling the rope that hung behind it. 'Someone will bring us something.'

Dean dropped back down in his seat. 'So… Now what?'

'We wait until it's time for the feast,' Castiel said, getting himself more comfortable on the bed.

'And do nothing?'

'You could try reading something,' Castiel said, pulling a book from under the bed. 'The Lionheart scrolls perhaps,' he shot.

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed his legs, choosing to stare out of the window instead. He wondered if his father had been in this room, or even sat in this very spot, just as bored as he was watching over the King. He shook his head. That wasn't right. His and Castiel's father's were good friends. They must have spent a lot of time talking. Dean glanced over at the King and almost opened his mouth to ask, but the memory of his father's voice stopped him. He had to go up the mountain, and what if Castiel stopped him from going? He had to be careful.

'So… What were the other Lionhearts like?' he asked.

Castiel looked up at him. 'Why do you want to know?'

'Professional curiosity.' Dean waited, but when the King said nothing he gave another gentle nudge. 'Your last one was Lady Celeste, right?'

'I don't want to talk about her,' Castiel said stiffly. He attempted to go back to his book, but his eyes didn't move across the page.

'What about before her?'

Castiel sighed and put down his book, briefly closing his eyes. 'His name was John,' Castiel said quietly. 'He was my father's Lionheart, and then he was mine when my father died. He was brave and loyal, and he gave his life for me.'

'What happened to him?'

Castiel shook his head. 'I don't want to talk about it.'

Dean bit his lip, desperate to know. He considered pressing the question, but a knock on the door ended his moment of opportunity.

'Enter,' Castiel called, assuming his usual royal demeanour.

The door opened and platters of food were brought inside by some of Naomi's servants. Their eyes raked over Castiel sitting on his bed, and Dean on his chair by the window, as though hoping to catch them doing or saying something they shouldn't. Castiel gave them a pleasant smile and thanked them cordially, before locking the door behind them. He wouldn't take any more questions that afternoon, studiously avoiding Dean's eyes and burying himself in his book, while Dean slowly made his way through all the food.

'You were hungry,' Castiel commented, as the sun began to set.

'Don't tell anyone, but I was getting really tired of Kraken near the end there.'

Castiel's mouth twitched at the corners and he put down his book. 'I hope you're still hungry enough to eat at the feast.'

'Trust me, I can eat forever.'

'Now that's something I'd like to see. We should get ready. You have a better jacket in that case over there.'

'I do?' Dean dug through it and found another jacket, this one in deep red and trimmed in silver. 'I didn't know this was in here.'

'Why would you? I packed that one.'

'What, you personally?'

'You're welcome. Put it on.'

Dean threw off the jacket he was wearing and shoved his arms through it. It was a good fit, and soft to the touch.

Castiel changed into another fine cloak and they finally left the room, flanked by Alfie and Benny. Castiel led them through the castle. The air was chilly and damp, until they arrived at Naomi's banqueting hall. The torches on the walls chased most of it away, but the damp was still pervasive.

They all filed in, Naomi's court were already seated on one side of the room, but all rose and bowed when Castiel came in. He bowed to Naomi, then took his seat with her on one side and Dean on the other.

Castiel was watched closely by both Naomi and Dean during the feast, both watching to see if his mask of regal politeness would slip, but it never did.

Naomi turned her attention to Dean when Castiel refused to give her what she wanted.

'Sir Dean,' she said sweetly, 'how old are you?'

'Twenty, Your Majesty,' Dean told her, doing his best attempt at his own pleasant mask.

'How does someone so young become the best swordsman in your kingdom?'

'Plenty of practice, Your Majesty,' Dean smiled. 'My father taught me, he was quite good himself.'

'And your father was…?'

'No one of consequence,' said Dean, though he was sure Naomi didn't fail to notice how quickly he'd said. 'Just a soldier.'

'Hmm. Your father fought in your civil war, did he?'

Castiel's lips tightened slightly.

'He did.'

Naomi nodded. 'You were a soldier yourself? Before you became a Lionheart?'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

'Were you stationed around your castle at all? I've visited a few times, I'm sure I've seen you.'

'No, Your Majesty, I wasn't stationed there, but my brother was living nearby. You may well have seen me in town.'

'I see.'

Dean resisted the urge to look at Castiel, to confirm whether or not he'd said the right thing.

'And you'll be joining us in my office for our talks on the treaty tomorrow? All the other Lionhearts have.'

'Of course,' Dean smiled.

Naomi gave him a satisfied smile that made his stomach turn, and he didn't need to look at Castiel to know that this was the wrong thing to say.

Naomi ignored them for the most part after that, only to make inconsequential chatter with Castiel when she felt like it, until they were all dismissed for the night.

Dean nervously followed Castiel back to their room. 'I'm sorry,' he said once they were inside. 'I didn't mean-'

'I told you to think before you spoke,' Castiel said harshly.

'I'm sorry,' Dean repeated. 'But I thought I was supposed to stay with you at all times.'

'Not in the treaty talks,' Castiel sighed, running a hand through his hair as he removed his crown. 'It's fine. It's done. Let's get some rest.'

Much to Dean's surprise, Castiel began to undress. Up until now, he'd been very private, changing whilst Dean was out of the room, or hiding behind a screen to do it. Now, though, he appeared to be completely unbothered by it. Dean followed his lead and changed into his bedclothes, but looked around and realised there was only the one large bed in the room.

'Where do I sleep?' Dean asked.

'I would have thought that was fairly obvious,' Castiel said with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh.'

Castiel rolled his eyes. 'I'm certain you've slept in worse places, but you're welcome to sleep on the floor if you prefer.'

'No, no.'

Dean got himself changed, but the King was asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow, not even stirring when Dean climbed in beside him.

Though the King snuffled quietly, sleep evaded Dean. He was acutely aware of the body beside him, and kept himself as close to the edge of the bed as he could, in an attempt to keep a respectful distance. He eventually did fall into a shallow slumber, but towards dawn, he felt a heavy blow to the face and leapt from the bed, yanking his dagger out from the pillow.

'Who's there?' he growled, whirling around, eyes watering and nose bleeding.

'Dean- Dean, it's all right,' Castiel said, sitting up and holding out a placating hand. 'It was just me.'

'What?' Dean scanned the room one more time before lowering his dagger and holding his sleeve to his nose. 'You _punched_ me?'

'An accident,' Castiel said, grabbing the jug of water on his bedside table. 'I apologise, I don't sleep well here.'

Dean stared at him for a moment, then sat back down on the bed, dabbing at his nose.

'Allow me,' Castiel said, reaching out.

Dean shrugged away. 'No need,' he said, not wanting the King to tire himself. 'It's not broken.'

'I insist.' Without waiting for an answer, Castiel put his hand on Dean's neck, gently touching his skin. Warmth spread from his fingertips and Dean's nose stopped throbbing. 'There,' Castiel said wearily. 'Don't worry yourself, Dean, there is still plenty of time to rest.'

'Is it not my job to worry?' Dean grumbled, getting back under the covers, but he only got a faint snort in response. 'That's a mean fist you've got there.'

'Plenty of practice,' Castiel mumbled before drifting off once more.

  
  


They took breakfast in their room, and Dean nervously got dressed. The King had resumed his tense demeanour and grimly placed the crown on his head when he was ready to leave.

'Before we go, Dean-'

'I know, I know, think about what I'm saying before I say it.'

'No, don't say anything,' Castiel said sharply. 'You have no experience in statecraft, there will be nothing you can add to this conversation without giving Naomi what she wants. Understand?'

Dean nodded.

Castiel took a deep breath and stepped out of the room, where two of Naomi's guard were waiting for him.

They were escorted to her offices across the castle. The enormous table in the middle of the room took up most of the space, and there were papers and maps spread across it.

It was the brightest room in the castle, but the mist and overcast weather still left it dim and dreary. Naomi was already at the table, in another practical grey dress.

'Good morning,' she said, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. 'I thought we would begin by reading through our previous terms, to refresh our memories.'

'An excellent idea,' Castiel said, returning her empty smile. He motioned for Dean to stand against the wall behind him, and picked up one of the many stacks of paper.

They combed through it together, circling important sentences as they went.

Dean's eyes glazed over, immensely bored by the proceedings, until they finally put the old treaty away. They began going over the maps and borders, and Dean was brought out of his slump by talks of the new terms.

This was where the dance began, he could tell. Naomi probing and Castiel finding discreet ways to rebuff her, but he could tell Naomi was gaining ground. An extra fishing ground here, or a donation of lumber there. All small things, until it came to crop trading. Naomi asked for a huge amount of wheat and maize, almost three times the amount she’d asked for last time.

Dean had spent a lot of time in the country, around the farmers. He knew how much they harvested, and he knew that the civil war had decimated their available farmland. There was simply not enough for them to give to Naomi.

‘You can’t do that, that’s too much,’ Dean blurted out, and both their heads snapped up to look at him.

‘Oh,’ said Naomi, her infuriatingly pleasant smile still on her face.

Castiel’s lip twitched in barely concealed rage, his eyes flashing dangerously, all of which melted from his face the instant Naomi turned to look at him.

‘I apologise,’ she said, her voice taking on a sickly, honeyed tone. ‘I had no idea you were so low on supplies.’

‘Not at all,’ Castiel said, only just managing to smile again. ‘Just a low yield this year, nothing we can’t handle.’

‘Of course.’

The talks continued, and they took their lunch in Naomi’s office. Dean didn’t say another word, and Naomi didn’t look at him again, but Castiel would throw a furious glare at him every so often, when Naomi was looking the other way.

At last, they ceased for the evening.

‘You’ll be back bright and early?’

‘Of course.’

‘And Dean?’

Castiel gave her his best regretful expression. ‘Unfortunately, Dean must train with the rest of the guard tomorrow. Some of our newer members need some extra instruction.’

‘I see.’ Naomi stepped over to Dean and shook his hand. ‘It was nice to hear your insight today, Dean.’

‘Likewise,’ Dean smiled, ignoring Castiel’s narrowed eyes over her head.

Castiel swept from the room and stormed ahead of Dean, as soon as they were out of Naomi’s sight. He didn’t say anything until they were safely back in their room, then the King whirled around and slammed Dean into the wall.

‘What is the matter with you?’ he snarled. ‘I told you not to say anything.’

‘I - I’m sorry,’ Dean stammered, Castiel’s arm pushing hard against his chest.

‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’

‘I-’

‘No, of course you don’t. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, and now you’ve revealed weakness to Naomi.’ The King dropped his arm and turned away from Dean, running his hands through his hair.

Dean rubbed his chest, wincing. ‘It - it can’t be that bad, can it?’

Castiel sighed, leaning against one of the bed posts. ‘Naomi is like a bloodhound. Once she senses weakness, she won’t stop. She doesn’t have the resources, but she does have the numbers, and our position relies on her believing we are better prepared than she is.’

‘But - but aren’t we?’

Castiel sighed again and sat heavily on the bed, looking up at the door. ‘Not since Raphael took the north,’ he murmured. ‘Not since…’ he trailed off, clenching his fist.

Dean hesitated, then sat down on the bed next to him.

‘Raphael took half of the kingdom,’ Castiel whispered, ‘but if Naomi figures out exactly how much we lost, she’ll take everything.’

Dean’s heart sank. He had seen the effect the war had had on the countryside, particularly near the border, but he hadn’t realised the scope of the difficulty they were in.

‘You _can’t_ say anything else to Naomi. It’s imperative she keep her distance.’

Dean nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘You’d better.’ Castiel took off his cloak and jacket, and lay back on the bed.

‘I’ll call up some food,’ Dean mumbled, going to the wall and pulling the rope. He looked down at Castiel, who had put his arm over his face. He looked thoroughly exhausted. ‘I - uh - I’m sure everything will be all right,’ Dean said hesitantly.

Castiel shook his head. ‘I can fix it,’ he said. ‘It’ll be difficult, but I can.’

‘Well that’s good. Am I actually training with everyone tomorrow?’

‘You may as well, Alfie does need some work.’

‘I can do that.’ Dean rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I really am sorry.’

‘I know you are… You’re not the only one to ever be manipulated by Naomi.’

‘So am I forgiven?’ Dean teased, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

A small smile twitched the King’s lips. ‘Don’t push it.’

  
  


That night, Dean was slightly more comfortable with sleeping in the same bed as the King, but Castiel didn’t seem to share in it. He was asleep almost immediately, as tired as he was, but it wasn’t long before he began to mumble in his sleep. Dean sat up this time and watched him toss and turn, frowning and muttering. Dean didn’t know whether to wake him or not, and eventually settled on pouring them both a goblet of water.

When he sat down again, the King bolted awake, breathing heavily. Dean wordlessly handed him his water.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel mumbled. He wouldn’t look at Dean, and Dean knew better than to ask questions. ‘We’ll be able to leave once negotiations are finished,’ said Castiel, sounding more as though he were reassuring himself than Dean. He drained the rest of his water, then finally looked at Dean. ‘Have you slept?’

‘Not yet,’ said Dean.

Castiel rose and lit a candle, moving to sit in the chair by the window. ‘Rest,’ he commanded. ‘I have documents to read.’

‘But-’

‘Dean.’

‘All right.’

Dean didn’t sleep all that well himself when he finally closed his eyes, and woke up with the first rays of dawn. The candle Castiel had lit was sputtering out, and Castiel himself had fallen asleep again, curled up in the chair, the book he had been reading lying open on the floor.

This time, Dean decided to wake the King up, confident that he would prefer to be awake now the sun was up.

Castiel looked up at him blearily. ‘How did you sleep?’

‘Better than you. Breakfast?’

Castiel nodded and straightened, rubbing his neck uncomfortably.

‘That looks painful,’ Dean said sympathetically. ‘Can’t you heal it?’

‘It doesn’t work like that,’ said Castiel, stretching widely.

‘What kind of healing power doesn’t allow you to heal yourself?’

‘It is not for me to use to benefit myself,’ Castiel said.

Dean opened his mouth, but the King motioned for him to be quiet. Just then, the door opened, and their breakfast was brought in, along with a message from Naomi.

‘Hurry up and eat,’ Castiel said, once the servants were gone. ‘The Queen expects me any moment.’

Dean ate quietly, watching Castiel hastily throw on his clothes and take quick bites of his food in between articles of clothing. Dean then escorted him back to Naomi’s offices, bowed, and took his leave. He went outside as fast as he dared, and took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air. It had been days since he was out in the open, and the damp, though still weighing down the air outside, was pervasive inside the castle.

Dean waited alone in Naomi’s small training ground, examining his sword until the rest of the guard arrived. Dean grinned and pointed his sword at Alfie. ‘You first,’ he said, to laughter and hooting from the rest of the guard.

Alfie hesitated, then grinned himself, drawing his sword.

Dean ran drills with him again and again, while the others sparred with each other.

They were soon all soaked through from the fog and the damp, and they all stopped dead when the bells in the castle tolled across the grounds.

‘What’s that?’ Dean said, sheathing his sword, catching his breath.

‘It means they’ve finished the new treaty,’ Benny said, throwing down the spear he had been practicing with. ‘We should go inside. The signing feast will be tonight.’

Dean nodded and helped pack everything away, before hurrying back to the castle. They were handed cloths to dry off with as soon as they came through the doors. The guard disappeared to their own quarters, but Dean went up to Naomi’s offices, to wait for the King outside.

Moments after he arrived, Castiel emerged, relief clear on his face, and he looked stunned as he saw Dean there, still trying to catch his breath.

‘You’re wet,’ he said, looking Dean up and down.

Dean nodded.

‘Well, we don’t have all day. Let’s go.’ Castiel turned and bowed to Naomi.

Whilst the King was changing once again, Dean quickly washed himself and put on his best clothes for the feast, all the while feeling Castiel’s eyes on him. He flushed with embarrassment, but pushed past it. There was no time for shame.

As soon as they were deemed acceptable, Castiel whispered to the guard outside, and they waited to be summoned.

‘You look nice,’ Castiel murmured, and Dean’s eyebrows rose.

‘I’m acceptable, am I?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I wouldn’t want to look a mess before the Queen.’

‘Indeed,’ Castiel smiled.

This feast was much the same as the first, the only difference being the performance and ceremony of both Naomi and Castiel signing the new treaty.

Dean thoroughly enjoyed himself, now that he knew they would be leaving soon. He swallowed down a tankard of ale, and almost picked up another, but one look at the dark circles under Castiel’s eyes convinced him otherwise. He knew there was not much Naomi’s sharp gaze didn’t see, but he hoped she hadn’t noticed Castiel’s fatigue.

‘Will you be sailing home?’ Naomi asked Castiel. ‘You may be here some time, your ship is still under repairs.’

Castiel shook his head. ‘We’re riding south from here. The _Era_ will meet us at home later on.’

‘Oh. Dropping in on Gabriel, are you?’

‘Only briefly,’ Castiel told her. ‘Someone should keep an eye on him.’

‘That’s true. I’ll have your bags packed and your supplies stocked.’

‘Thank you. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning.'

Naomi nodded and went back to her meal.

  
  


Castiel didn't sleep at all that night, and Dean hardly slept any better. He would wake every few hours to find the King pacing the room in his nightclothes.

'What's wrong?' Dean asked blearily, after waking for a third time.

Castiel shook his head. 'We've signed the treaty,' he said. 'There's nothing to worry about.'

'Oh, I'm convinced.'

Castiel sighed. 'I'm anxious to leave.'

'I can tell.'

'Go back to sleep, Dean.'

‘Gladly.’

The next time Dean woke, Castiel was dressed in his riding clothes, picking at his breakfast. He looked at Dean, muttered, ‘Hurry up,’ and gave Dean his food, waiting impatiently for Dean to get dressed.

Their horses were already waiting outside, along with the rest of the guard, who bowed when they saw Castiel. They all made sure their bags were secure and prepared for the long ride south.

Naomi came out to bid them farewell. ‘Safe travels, Castiel,’ she said, curtseying.

‘Thank you, Naomi,’ Castiel said, bowing deeply in return, then climbing onto his horse. ‘I hope our future visits are just as fruitful.’

‘As do I.’ Naomi then turned her attention to Dean. ‘And it was very nice to meet you, Sir Dean,’ she smiled. ‘I hope we see each other again.’

Castiel bristled as Dean bent to kiss her hand, but quickly regained control of himself and smoothed his expression. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, spurring his horse onward.

Dean followed him, then Benny and Alfie, then the rest of the guard. He did not look back, but he could feel Naomi’s eyes on them, even as they disappeared into the mist.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Dragon67, Why_do_you_want_to_know and VegasGranny for the comments! See you again next time!


	6. Chapter Six

They rode in complete silence behind the King, his back straight and stiff. Time passed but they couldn't tell how much through the fog, though it felt like hours. The guard spread out, but Dean stayed near Castiel, close enough to notice when the King's head began to fall forward, and his horse drifted off course.

Dean pushed his horse forward slightly and guided Castiel's back in the right direction.

'Maybe we should stop,' he suggested, and Castiel's head snapped up.

'No,' he said, shaking his head.

'I can't protect you from falling off your own horse,' Dean grumbled.

'A couple more hours riding,' Castiel insisted. 'I want to be as far away from the castle as possible.'

Dean didn't argue, he just rode at Castiel's side and held onto the reins when Castiel dozed off in the saddle. The others pretended not to notice, but tactfully closed ranks, so if anyone happened upon them, it wouldn't be immediately obvious that Castiel was asleep.

They kept going, until the fog finally lifted. Dean almost breathed a sigh of relief when he could see properly again. He led them down into a marshy gully, where they wouldn’t be easily spotted.

Castiel jolted awake when his horse stopped and looked around in confusion.

‘We’re stopping for now,’ Dean explained, dismounting and untying his saddlebags.

Castiel nodded and hopped down too, wordlessly handing his horse to Alfie, so he could tie up all the horses.

‘Will you please rest properly now?’ Dean murmured, helping Castiel set up his tent.

‘You shouldn’t have let me sleep,’ Castiel snapped, then went inside.

Dean tutted and rolled his eyes. ‘He’s grumpy when he’s tired,’ he said quietly to the others as they huddled close together. It was getting chilly, but the only wood they could find was far too damp to light a fire.

‘I don’t blame him,’ said Benny. ‘Naomi’s a tough nut to crack at the best of times. I don’t envy him.’

‘What do you know about Naomi?’ Dean asked, digging through the bags for something to eat. He was confident that they were far enough away for it to be safe talking about her.

‘Not much,’ Benny shrugged. ‘She’s an opportunist. A good one. It was all he could do to fend her off when Raphael took the north.’

Dean nodded thoughtfully, chewing on a dry cracker. ‘That must have been something.’

‘We were here for weeks that first time.’

Dean’s eyebrows rose. ‘Wasn’t he only fourteen?’

‘Yep.’

Dean whistled.

‘I was impressed too,’ Benny grinned.

‘I didn’t know you went with him on that first trip.’

Benny shrugged. ‘I was just a squirt like this one here at the time,’ he said, playfully nudging Alfie. ‘I left the guard for a while after that. It was a strange time.’

‘It was,’ Dean agreed, thinking once again of his father.

As the sun went down, the guard decided that two of them would stay on the watch instead of just one. One patrolled the perimeter of their camp, and the other stayed in the middle of all the tents, watching the way they had come.

Dean sat up outside the King’s tent, until the sun had completely set, then crawled into his own tent where it was dry. It was nice to have his own space again, but he struggled to get to sleep. He couldn’t believe his own concern, and reminded himself over and over again that he was there so he could get up the mountain. It didn’t work. He sighed and sat up again, rubbing his face, then crept over to the King’s tent. He hesitated outside the entrance. There was no sound coming from inside, so he took a deep breath and went in.

There was a candle burning, but Castiel was sound asleep.

Dean sighed and quietly moved to blow out the candle. As soon as he did, he felt something sharp jab at his side.

‘Don’t move,’ came Castiel’s voice, low and dangerous.

‘It’s just me!’ Dean said, leaning away from the pointy end of the dagger Castiel was holding to him.

‘Dean? What are you doing?’ Castiel said, lowering the dagger.

‘I came to check on you, and - and blow out your candle.’

‘Why?’

‘What do you mean why? I’m supposed to check on you, aren’t I?’

‘Go back to bed, Dean.’

‘Right. You’re welcome,’ Dean grumbled, shuffling out of the tent and back to his own, finally letting sleep overtake him.

  
  


The trip south was far longer than their short journey to the _Era,_ riding through muddy marshland. The constant fine drizzle made them all miserable, and the rolling fog descending on them at random times slowed them down. Castiel’s mood only worsened, until they were once again all avoiding him.

Dean took the opportunity to get to know the rest of the guard, now that he wasn’t holed up in Naomi’s castle, or throwing up over the side of a ship. Aside from Benny and Alfie, there was also Jack and Alex. They were twins, about the same age as Alfie but a little better with a sword than he was. There was also Hannah, a short, dark-haired woman. What she lacked is size, she more than made up for in skill and speed. Finally, there was Ash. Brown-skinned with thick, curly hair. He was good-natured, always with a joke to tell, but there was a sadness about him when he thought no one was looking.

‘You lost someone?’ Dean asked him one night when they were on watch together. He had finally recognised the sadness that dwelled within himself on Ash’s face.

Ash nodded, drawing his cloak tightly about himself. ‘In the war,’ he said.

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dean said. ‘Who’d you lose?’

Ash didn’t speak for a moment. ‘His name was Rowan. I told him he had no business fighting any battles, but he wanted to go anyway. He was like that.’ Ash smiled. ‘Stubborn, loyal, strongest sense of right and wrong I’ve ever seen. Gorgeous.’ Ash gave a small, quiet laugh.

‘He sounds great.’

‘I miss him,’ Ash said. ‘I wish I could have had more time with him, but the years we had were a blessing, so I try not to be too sad about it.’

‘What made you join the guard? Don’t you blame the King at all?’ Dean asked curiously.

‘I try not to,’ said Ash. ‘Rowan always said that he had been shoved into the same terrible situation we all had, only he had to take charge of it, and own it. None of this is really his fault, even though some days it’s difficult not to blame him. I think of Rowan then.’ Ash sniffed. ‘He was always a fierce defender of the King. Loved him almost as much as he loved me, so I thought I would carry that on. For him.’ Ash cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, what about you? Who did you lose?’

‘My father,’ Dean told him. ‘He was a soldier at the time.’

‘I see. ‘

‘So then it was just me and my brother. It was tough going for a while there.’

‘I take it you’re not here because you just love the King that much?’ Ash laughed. ‘Don’t worry, he grows on you,’ he added at Dean’s glance back at the tents. ‘Do _you_ blame him?’

Dean shrugged. ‘I used to, but I’m not so sure anymore.’

Ash laughed again. ‘Like I said, he grows on you.’

  
  


The further south they went, the more the fog and drizzle eased off, though this did nothing to improve Castiel’s mood. If anything, his mood worsened even more, until he began snapping at small annoyances, such as Benny dropping his waterskin, or Alfie veering slightly off course.

‘What can we do about this?’ Dean whispered to Benny on a warm afternoon. It had been dry for hours by now, and the ground beneath them finally solidified into something more substantial than the marshland they had been travelling through.

‘Don’t see there’s much we _can_ do,’ Benny whispered back.

‘You think he’s stressed about something?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

‘Maybe he just needs to let off some steam.’

‘He’ll just have to wait, I don’t see any girls around here, except Hannah, and I don’t think she’d be up for it.’

‘Come on, Benny, take one for the team,’ Dean sniggered.

Benny shoved him so hard he almost fell off his horse.

Dean rolled his eyes, then spotted a stand of trees, with a larger wood behind it in the distance. He spurred his horse forward, an idea forming in his mind.

‘We should stop under those trees,’ he said to Castiel, pointing at them.

‘We’ll stop when I say we stop,’ Castiel snapped.

Dean didn’t say anything, he just waited.

‘Fine,’ Castiel said eventually. ‘We’ll stop there, if you’re so tired already.’

Once the horses were secured and everything set up, Dean turned to face Castiel and drew his sword.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he asked, and everyone stopped talking.

Dean grinned. ‘Absolutely. I want a rematch.’

Castiel slowly, deliberately drew his sword. It was slim, but deadly, and he twirled it in his hand while he watched Dean.

‘Don’t you want to use the training swords?’ Alfie asked nervously.

‘No thank you, Alfie,’ said Castiel, not taking his eyes off Dean.

He struck first, slashing at Dean’s ribs with such speed and ferocity that Dean barely had time to raise his sword in defence, and he stumbled backwards. Castiel pressed the advantage, and Dean only righted himself enough to withstand Castiel’s attacks.

At first, Dean had prepared himself to let Castiel win, but it was soon clear that, no matter how complicated he made his moves, or how he tried to confuse Castiel, he was no match for the King.

They lost track of time as their swords clashed, their vision narrowing until they only saw each other, spinning and weaving their steel, skidding back and forth. It was an intricate dance, closing on each other until they were only a hair’s breadth apart, almost skin to skin, then momentum would break them apart again with a shower of sparks. Eventually, Dean dropped to a defensive stance, fending off Castiel’s blows, but making fewer and fewer of his own. At last, he stumbled on a weak attempt to jab at Castiel. He overreached and the King grabbed his arm, yanking him forward, forcing Dean to drop his sword to keep his balance, and finishing with the tip of his sword at Dean’s back.

‘I yield,’ Dean panted, bending double to catch his breath.

Castiel sheathed his sword, breathless, and picked Dean’s up for him.

The rest of the guard, who had been watching them, clapped and cheered enthusiastically.

‘That wasn’t bad,’ Castiel said, handing Dean his sword so he could sheath it. ‘Keep your centre of gravity low, you can withstand attacks from people like me, who use speed as their main advantage.’

‘Thanks for the tip,’ Dean puffed, picking up a waterskin.

‘No, thank _you,’_ said Castiel. ‘You were right, I did need to let off some steam.’

Dean inhaled and nearly choked on his water. ‘You heard that?’ he spluttered.

‘I’m not deaf.’ Castiel deftly plucked the waterskin from Dean’s hands, draining what was left of it, and handing it back before disappearing into his own tent.

Dean heavily sat down, glad that they had at least found a dry patch of ground.

‘Hey, look at that, he smiled,’ Benny said, sitting down beside Dean. ‘Must have done something right.’

‘Yeah, I must have,’ Dean laughed.

He lay on the floor for a while, then helped everyone collect up some firewood, while Jack and Alex went off into the woods to hunt for some food. The sun was just dipping below the horizon, casting deep shadows between the trees, when they returned with several rabbits and a fox. Ash excitedly dug through their bags for vegetables, and everyone pitched in with skinning and butchering.

With the fire crackling, lifting their spirits, they placed their bags and some logs around the fire, so they could all sit, joking and laughing cheerfully. Ash made them all bowls of stew once he was finished choosing just the right vegetables.

Dean happily took his bowl, but before he ate any of it, he looked up at Castiel’s tent. The King hadn’t emerged once since they had sparred, so Dean collected another bowl of stew and stepped over to the tent. He hesitated outside, wondering whether or not to just leave it outside, but he shook off the thought and pulled aside the canvas.

Castiel was inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by papers and candles. He looked up and frowned. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ said Dean, ‘I just thought you might be hungry. What is all this?’

‘Reports. Numbers. Supplies.’

‘Don’t you have advisors for this kind of thing?’

‘I prefer to do it myself.’ He held out his hand for his bowl of food, but narrowed his eyes when Dean didn’t give it to him.

‘Why don’t you join us out by the fire?’

Castiel took a slow breath. ‘I’d rather stay in here.’

‘Why? I bet Ash would cheer you up, he’s got great jokes.’

‘It’s kind of you to invite me, Dean, but it’s better if I stay here. They won’t be able to relax if I come out.’

Dean frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Castiel sighed and put down the paper he was holding. ‘If I go out there, then they all have to pretend as though they’re here purely because they’re passionate about defending me and the Crown. No one is truly here for me.’

‘That can’t be true-’

‘But it is.’

‘Well, maybe you just don’t know them well enough.’

‘I know them enough,’ Castiel snapped. ‘I know that Benny is here because he gets to spend his spare time with his family. Alfie wants to captain the town guard. Jack and Alex want to command their own garrisons someday. Hannah is trying to prove herself and become a knight.’

‘And Ash?’ Dean said quietly.

‘Ash… Ash is running away from his grief. Not that I blame him,’ Castiel said sadly. ‘You yourself are only here because you want your brother to live in the castle, but at least you and I can be honest about that.’

Dean bit his lip, tempted to tell the King the real truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

‘All right, maybe that’s all true, but it’s not the whole picture,’ Dean said, brushing off his lie and kneeling in front of Castiel. ‘I’ve gotten to know them a little bit, and they know what you’ve done for the kingdom. They’re here for you, they just don’t know you. You haven’t shown us the real you.’

‘How do you know I haven’t?’ Castiel said with a raised eyebrow.

‘Simple. You care too much. I know there’s more to you than this, and so do they.’

Castiel looked down at his knees. ‘You do know that you’re stepping over the line, don’t you?’

Dean smiled. ‘I’m not an idiot, you know. But what are you going to do, fire me?’ This finally drew a smile from Castiel. ‘So, will you come out?’ Dean offered him a hand.

Castiel hesitated. ‘All right,’ he murmured, taking Dean’s hand and letting Dean pull him to his feet.

Alfie was the first to see them, and he smiled widely. Jack and Alex too seemed very pleased to see Castiel. The rest of them stared in surprise, and Castiel sat uncomfortably on a log.

‘Jack, Alex, how’s that fox skin coming?’ Dean asked loudly, breaking the tension.

‘All clean,’ Jack said enthusiastically. ‘It just needs to dry.’

‘Why don’t you set it up near the fire there?’

They did so, then chatted excitedly about the quality of the fur they’d found. Castiel listened intently, offering tips here and there. Then Alfie brought over his sword and showed them the leather grip he was working on for the hilt. Soon, everyone relaxed. Ash gave Castiel a fresh bowl of food and went back to his usual jokes and messing around, and Hannah and Benny began challenging everyone to arm wrestles.

Eventually, the fire began to die down, and they sat close around it. With the stars sparkling through the trees overhead, the conversation quietened and turned to their loved ones, then, inevitably, the war.

Castiel listened without comment while Ash talked again about Rowan, with a smile on his face, and Benny nodded sagely, and smiling when he realised that his brother and Rowan had been in the same battalion.

‘Do you think they were friends?’ Benny asked.

‘Of course,’ Ash grinned. ‘Rowan was friends with everyone. He was like a breath of fresh air.’

‘You’ve all lost someone?’ Castiel asked quietly.

They all stopped to look at him.

‘My brother,’ Alfie said.

Hannah nodded. ‘Two of my brothers.’

‘Our mother,’ Jack added.

‘My father,’ Dean murmured.

Castiel sighed.

‘What about you?’ Benny asked. ‘You lost your father too, right?’

Castiel gave him a surprised look. ‘Yes, my father. And my Lionheart.’

‘Oh John, of course. I remember him,’ Ash said and Dean turned to look at him.

‘You knew him?’ Dean said.

‘I met him when I first joined the guard,’ Ash told him. ‘Did you ever find out if he had a family?’

‘He had sons,’ Castiel said, staring into the fire. ‘I never found out what happened to them though. It’s always been one of my bigger regrets.’

‘You had a lot going on,’ Alfie said, in an attempt to comfort him.

‘I don’t consider that an excuse, but thank you, Alfie.’

‘Do you miss him?’ Alex asked.

‘Of course. He meant a lot to me.’

‘He did?’ said Dean.

Castiel nodded. ‘I always felt as though he cared about who I was, and that I meant more to him as myself than as just the Crown prince. More than just a means to continue the monarchy.’

Dean stared at him, stunned. Here was a whole other side to his father that he knew nothing about, and again, he felt the urge to tell Castiel everything, so he could hear the full story.

 _After the pilgrimage_ , he told himself. He would have one up the mountain by then, and it wouldn’t matter what Castiel did to him after that.

‘It’s not your fault, you know,’ Alfie said to Castiel. ‘None of it was your fault.’

A general murmur of agreement ran around the fire.

‘We know that you did everything you could,’ Ash said. ‘And that you still do.’

‘If anyone knows, we do,’ Benny added.

Castiel smiled.

‘John’s sons,’ Dean said. ‘I’m sure they’re all right.’

‘It would be nice to know for certain,’ Castiel sighed. ‘I never knew where they lived. I wouldn’t know where to start looking for them.’

‘I don’t think you need to worry about them. It’s been a long time, I bet they have everything worked out.’

‘I hope so.’

The conversation petered out after that, as everyone got lost in their thoughts. The fire reduced to embers and the guard all wandered off to their tents.

Dean and Castiel were the last to move.

‘Are you all right?’ Dean asked quietly.

‘Yes. It was nice to talk with them,’ Castiel said, getting to his feet. ‘Goodnight, Dean.’

‘’Night.’

Dean stayed up a little longer, regretting his decision to lie to the King. He wished he could talk to Sam. He wished he could talk to his father. But neither were possible. He was on his own.

  
  


Castiel led the way again, but he reduced the distance between him and the rest of the guard, so he could join in the conversations.

The damp in the air finally dissipated and the ground became dusty beneath the hooves of their horses. Castiel was still tense, but he did his best not to show it until he suddenly stopped in the middle of the road.

‘All of you, put on your armour,’ he said, dismounting his horse. ‘We’re crossing the border.’

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Why_do_you_want_to_know, Dizzybunny, casfish, liesje_86, VegasGranny and Azrael_abaddon for the comments! See you again soon :)


	7. Chapter Seven

Dean jumped down from his horse, confused, and hurriedly put on his mail. The ground around them was dry and dusty, but if they were truly crossing the border, it should have been lush and green. The blessing was always supposed to reach the border, so the King could be purposely not blessing the northern half of the kingdom, though Dean found this unlikely. The other option, that made Dean’s blood run cold when he thought of it, was that there was something wrong with the blessing.

Dean finished putting on his armour first, so he went over to help Castiel put on his plate armour.

‘I didn’t realise your horse was carrying this much,’ he muttered, adjusting the pauldrons.

‘She’s very strong,’ Castiel mumbled.

‘You don’t say.’ His attempt to lighten the mood didn’t work.

Castiel dithered with the satchel that held the Crown. If he carried it on him, it would look more out of place than if it was just amongst their things, but if he put it away, it would be more difficult to protect it.

‘I’ll carry it,’ Dean offered.

Castiel hesitated, then handed it over. ‘All right, let’s go,’ he said. ‘Stay sharp.’

The guard closed ranks, keeping close behind Castiel, and Dean rode at his side. Close enough to defend him, but with enough space that he could draw his own sword.

None of them spoke, all alert, with their hands hovering at their belts, ready to draw swords.

Dean again was confused by the dirt around them. It was arid and dry, and the further south they rode, the drier it became. Plant life was sparse, and dust clouded around their horses’ hooves. He gave Castiel a questioning look, but Castiel just shook his head, watching the road ahead.

They rode until the sun went down, but the guard were reluctant to move away from Castiel. That night, they didn’t bother to put the tents up, nor did they light a fire. They just ate dry biscuits and spoke in low tones and whispers. Many of them were reluctant to go to sleep, but Dean made Jack, Alex and Hannah at least lie down to rest.

‘There’s no point in staying up if we’re all too tired to protect him tomorrow,’ Dean whispered. ‘As long as we stay quiet, no one will know we’re here.’ It worked on them, but Dean knew without even trying that there was no way he would be able to convince Castiel to go to sleep.

Dean himself was hesitant to sleep, and settled for lying down next to Castiel, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

‘I’ll watch over you,’ Castiel murmured.

‘Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?’ Dean snorted.

‘You would think,’ Castiel said, though Dean could hear the amusement in his voice.

‘I didn’t know you could tell jokes,’ Dean teased.

‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

‘Well, I’ve got plenty of time to figure it all out.’

‘Indeed.’

Dean eventually managed to doze off for a few hours, but he was awakened by the rising of the sun, and the clanking of armour as everyone around him began to get up. They quickly ate breakfast and mounted their horses, hurrying away from their campsite.

‘Where does Gabriel live now?’ Dean asked quietly.

‘They’ve built a makeshift capital here in the north,’ Castiel told him. ‘Gabriel lives in the castle.’

‘Wow. The nerve.’

‘I know.’

Castiel then stopped abruptly.

‘What?’ said Dean.

‘I thought I heard something.’ He looked around. The landscape was dotted with bare trees and low hills. There weren’t many places to hide, but Castiel led them off the road towards a small cluster of trees.

‘I think we should-’ but Castiel was cut off by a shout.

Men on horses burst out from beneath the trees and descended upon them. Before they could even change direction, a spear broke from their ranks, hurtling towards Castiel. His horse screamed and reared as the spear sunk into her chest, and he fell heavily from the saddle.

Benny and Alfie raised their swords and charged ahead, but Dean leapt from his horse to pick up the King and yanked him away from the fallen horse.

Dean then drew his sword and slashed at the legs of the horse charging at them. Everything was happening too quickly for him to be able to tell what was happening, and just barely avoided a sword, and not enough to prevent it slicing his cheek.

The dust settled, and Dean saw that their attackers had all been killed, and the attackers' horses were all dead, dying, or had run away.

‘Is everyone all right?’ he yelled.

‘We’re all right,’ Benny shouted back. ‘The King?’

‘He’s here with me.’ Dean turned to Castiel and checked him over. He appeared to be injured, holding his left arm, and his lip was swollen and split. ‘He’s hurt.’

Castiel looked as though he wanted to argue, but the pain his arm stopped him.

‘Alfie, help me get this off,’ Dean said, fumbling with the ties on Castiel’s armour.

Alfie slid to the ground and helped Dean with the ties. There was a gash across one of his eyebrows, but he was unharmed otherwise.

‘How bad is it?’ Benny shouted, as he and Hannah attempted to recover their horses.

‘I don’t know yet,’ said Dean. He very carefully removed the armour from Castiel’s injured arm, and Castiel groaned past clenched teeth as the metal jostled his arm.

Dean held the arm, and examined it. ‘Right, the shoulder’s come out. I have to put it back in.’

‘You know how?’ Castiel asked, his voice tight.

‘I’ve done this a thousand times, trust me. Does anybody have any wine?’

‘I do,’ said Ash, throwing his skin to Dean. He was limping slightly, but was focused on Castiel.

‘Here, drink this,’ Dean said, making sure Castiel had taken a good, long drink, before having him bite down on a leather glove. ‘Are you ready?’

Castiel nodded, and looked away.

Dean held onto Castiel’s arm with one hand, then used the other to push his shoulder up and back into the socket with a quick, firm shove.

Castiel cried out, clenching his good fist and punching his own leg. He spat out the glove, breathing heavily, his eyes watering.

‘That’s the worst part done,’ Dean said, not letting go of Castiel’s arm, ‘now we just need to make sure it heals properly. Alfie, get my cloak from my bag and rip it in half.’

Alfie did as he was told, and Castiel drained the remainder of the wine.

‘Here,’ said Dean, tying the cloak up into a sling and tightening it around Castiel’s injured arm. ‘Does that feel supported enough?’ he asked, finally letting go of the arm.

‘Yes,’ Castiel said weakly, then reached out to touch Dean. ‘Let me heal you.’

Dean shrugged him off. ‘Don’t do that, you’re hurt. Besides, what would we all look like if we show up to see Gabriel without a scratch, and you’re all beat up?’ He used another scrap of the cloak to gently wipe the blood from Castiel’s face. ‘There, that’s better. All right, we’ll stop here for now,’ said Dean, getting to his feet. ‘Let’s clear the area.’ He had Jack and Alex assist him with moving the bodies away, so they wouldn’t have to rest near them.

‘Who are they?’ Jack asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Dean. ‘There are no sigils or anything. Could just be raiders, but I doubt it.’

Benny had managed to recover all of their horses, but when Dean went back to where he’d left the King, he found Castiel kneeling next to his horse, stroking her mane.

‘She was a good horse,’ Castiel said sadly.

‘What do you want to do with her?’

‘Can the other horses carry her tack? It would be a shame to waste it.’

Dean nodded. ‘How far is it to the capital?’

‘Another day or so.’

‘That’s good, then the horses can carry everything until we get there, and we’ll get another horse for the rest of the way. You’ll have to ride with me, though.’

‘That’s fine. Will your horse be all right?’

‘Yeah, he can take it. It’s not that far.’

‘I found more wine,’ Hannah, who had been stripping the bodies, called. She gave it to Castiel, who gulped most of it down in one go.

‘We should go soon,’ Castiel mumbled.

‘Let us work out who’s carrying what and then we can go,’ Dean said.

Castiel didn’t move much and watched the rest of them redistribute the bags amongst their horses, finishing off what was left of the wine.

Benny checked the bags were all secure. ‘We’re ready if you are,’ he said to Dean.

Dean pulled Castiel to his feet, then helped him mount the horse. He sat behind Dean, his good arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He spurred his horse forward, and did his best to keep it smooth, but he winced at every jolt.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked Castiel. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t make him walk smoother than this.’

‘I’m fine,’ Castiel mumbled, but he rested his head on Dean’s back. ‘Just keep going.’

Hours passed, the guard talking quietly amongst themselves, until Dean felt Castiel’s grip on him loosening.

‘We should stop,’ Dean muttered.

‘No,’ Castiel said hoarsely. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Well, I’m not. I’m thirsty, and there’s a stream over there.’

Castiel sighed. ‘I suppose we can stop for a while.’

Dean hopped down first and turned to help the King down, and was alarmed to see the grey pallor of his skin and the dark circles around his eyes. ‘Listen, my face really hurts, so I think we should make camp.’ It wasn’t strictly a lie. The slice down his cheek still stung, and there was no telling what had been on that sword. He desperately wanted to wash it.

‘If you insist,’ said Castiel, stumbling into Dean as he dismounted.

‘We’re going to risk making a fire too, I think we could all do with some warm food.’

Castiel nodded vaguely, and sat down while everyone else set up camp, sipping on some water. He barely made it through a bowl of Ash’s stew before he had fallen asleep. Dean sat awake to watch him, even when everyone else had fallen asleep. He considered waking Benny up to take the watch, but they were all bunched so tightly together, it would have been pointless.

Dean lay back to watch the stars, and Castiel stirred beside him, groaning in his sleep. Dean frowned and noticed the sheen of sweat and his pale skin.

He carefully shook Castiel’s good arm. ‘Wake up,’ he whispered.

Castiel opened his eyes and looked blearily up at Dean. He groaned again, more loudly, and clutched at his shoulder.

‘I’m going to need to take a look at that,’ Dean said. ‘I’ll put up your tent, give me a minute.’

Castiel didn’t move, but to attempt to make himself more comfortable. Dean lifted him up and helped him inside the tent. He lit a candle, then had Castiel take off his shirt.

Dean whistled as he looked at the King’s shoulder. It was swollen, bruised, and hot to the touch. ‘Right, it needs to be cleaned and cooled. Wait here, I’ll get some fresh water from that stream.’

‘How do you know this?’ Castiel asked.

‘Well, not all of us can heal people just by touching them,’ Dean said, smiling lightly. ‘Some of us have to learn these things to stay alive.’

‘That doesn’t seem correct, but I’ll take your word for it,’ Castiel joked weakly.

‘That’s the spirit,’ Dean said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Dean hurried to the stream and was pleased to find the water quite cold. He soaked some rags in it and filled all the skins he could carry. Castiel hadn’t moved when he returned, but he looked haggard. ‘This is not going to feel good at first,’ he warned the King, kneeling down. ‘But it will make you more comfortable.’

Castiel nodded and braced himself. He hissed through his teeth when Dean poured water over his shoulder.

‘You all right?’ Dean said. ‘That was the worst one.’

‘Yes. Keep going.’

Dean emptied a whole skin over Castiel’s shoulder, then began wrapping it in the wet rags. ‘You are taking this really well,’ Dean said, attempting to distract him.

‘Do you think I’ve never been in pain before?’ Castiel said gruffly.

‘Your guard is good at what they do, I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t been.’ Dean dabbed at the shoulder some more, then carefully considered it. ‘I’m sure I could bind this better, so it’ll be easier to ride with.’

Castiel watched Dean measure out strips of fabric ripped from his cloak. ‘Dean, why are you doing this?’ he asked.

Dean looked up at him, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘This isn’t part of your duties,’ he said, shivering as the cold water ran down his back.

‘Well, I never read the Lionheart scrolls, so I’m taking some liberties here,’ Dean smiled. ‘Besides, I’ve seen this kind of thing get nasty. I know someone who can’t lift his arm above his chest anymore, and we can’t have that for our King, can we? It would be unseemly.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Let’s get your shirt back on.’ Dean helped him with it, supporting his arm. ‘So, I can’t help but notice it’s a little… dry around here…’ he said, once Castiel was dressed again. ‘Please tell me you’re doing that on purpose?’

Castiel sighed and shook his head.

‘Wow, all right. So the ceremony messed _everything_ up. Got it.’ Dean began binding Castiel’s shoulder, wrapping the strips around his arm and tying it around his waist.

‘As I said, we’re in a more tenuous position than most people are aware of.’

‘That’s a heavy burden to carry around.’

‘Yes… I don’t enjoy having to explain it every time I get a new Lionheart.’

‘That’s not really my fault now, is it?’ Dean said, catching the King rolling his eyes in the light of the candle. ‘You miss her? Lady Celeste, I mean.’

‘Very much so.’

‘You two were… close?’

Castiel snorted. ‘Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.’

‘Why not?’

‘Let’s just say that I’m not her type.’

‘Not her type? That’s impossible. You’re the King, you’re everyone’s type.’

‘I appreciate that, Dean.’

Dean tied on the last piece of fabric and sat back to admire his handiwork.

‘She was my best friend,’ Castiel murmured, then cleared his throat. ‘This feels much better already, thank you, Dean.’

‘You’re welcome. I’ll go get a blanket.’

Castiel nodded, and Dean crawled out of the tent.

Dean dug through their bags, looking for one of their thicker blankets, and shoved Benny awake.

‘Hey, take the watch,’ he whispered.

‘Fine,’ Benny grumbled. ‘You could have at least stoked the fire.’

‘Don’t be stupid, it’ll just make you night-blind.’

‘Warm is what it’ll make me.’

‘Just do it, will you?’ Dean hissed.

‘Fine, fine, whatever you say, Sir Lionheart.’

Dean returned to the tent and lay the blanket over the shivering Castiel, blew out the candle, and settled on the floor next to him.

‘You’re staying?’

‘You _are_ injured. It would be irresponsible of me not to, don’t you think?’

‘If you say so.’

Dean smiled and finally went back to sleep, however, when he woke the next morning, the King was still pale and shivering. It was slow going helping him dress and wrapping up his arm again. He spoke very little as he watched them pack the camp away, and waited patiently for Dean to help him up onto the horse.

‘Are you going to be all right?’ Dean murmured as he settled himself in the saddle.

‘Let’s just get there,’ Castiel mumbled back.

Dean led the way, riding as fast as he dared, until they saw spiky, unfinished structures looming on the horizon.

‘Stop,’ Castiel said. ‘Help me down.’

They all stopped and waited.

‘Dean, help me with this,’ said the King, yanking one of his nice cloaks from one of the bags.

Dean tied it at his shoulders, carefully avoiding the injured one.

‘And my-’

Dean pulled the Crown out of the satchel and placed it on Castiel’s head.

‘I should ride in front.’

‘Right.’

‘This is much more comfortable,’ Castiel said, once he was in the saddle in front of Dean.

Dean held onto the reins and the King rested against his chest. ‘I’m glad you think so.’

They followed a faint, dirt road that had formed, leading into the city.

Most of it was half formed, wood spiking into the air.

‘Where are they getting the lumber?’ Dean muttered.

‘Naomi has plenty of trees,’ Castiel whispered back, and Dean could hear the frown in his voice.

There were few people around, and those not working on construction wandered aimlessly, or sat miserably on the side of the road. They were all thin and ragged, their clothes patchy and frayed. They looked up at the group riding through, mouths open in disbelief.

Castiel looked down at them, his jaw set, fury radiating from him.

‘Calm down,’ Dean whispered. ‘You need to keep your strength up.’

Castiel took a deep breath, but didn’t unclench his fists.

‘Let’s just get to Gabriel. That’s the castle?’ Dean nodded at an ugly, half-finished castle ahead of them. It was squat, bloated, and most of the wooden structure was bare. The walls were slowly being constructed out of dull brown stone, and the people working on it were all covered in a fine reddish-brown dust.

Dean rode them right up to where the front gates should be, and a short man with wavy brown hair came running out, waving enthusiastically.

Dean and the guard dismounted, followed slowly by Castiel, who waved off Dean’s attempts to help him down. He dropped heavily down from the saddle, grabbing his shoulder, but then drew himself up to his full height.

‘Castiel!’ the man said brightly, arms wide in greeting.

‘Gabriel,’ Castiel said coldly, eyes narrowed.

‘Ouch, what happened to you?’

Castiel didn’t bother to answer.

‘The raiders around here can get a bit pesky.’

‘Right. Raiders,’ said Castiel. ‘Are you going to invite me in, or not?’

‘Of course. Come, come. Into my humble abode. This your new Lionheart? He’s strapping.’ Gabriel slapped Dean’s chest, and Castiel prickled.

‘ _This_ is Gabriel?’ Dean said out of the corner of his mouth, as they followed Gabriel. He was unkempt, only dressed in his underclothes and heavy leather boots.

‘Hush, Dean.’

Gabriel brought them into one of the only completed rooms, that appeared to be a throne room, but with a large table set in the centre of the room.

‘Sit down,’ he said, taking his place at the head of the table.

Castiel sat on Gabriel’s left, with Dean close beside him. The rest of the guard warily took seats around the table, suspicious of the lack of Gabriel’s own guards.

‘So,’ Gabriel grinned, putting his feet up on the table. ‘How’ve you been? Besides the shoulder, of course.’

‘I’ve been better,’ Castiel said frostily. ‘Our ship was attacked by a Kraken. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?’

Gabriel shrugged. ‘Who knows anything about the wildlife around here? What’s a Kraken, isn’t that a giant sea monster, or something?’

‘Right.’

Gabriel dropped his feet down from the table and leaned on his elbow instead, staring at Castiel. ‘Come on, cousin, isn’t it time we put all of this behind us? We’re family, surely we can find a way to get along?’

Castiel raised his eyebrows and looked exaggeratedly around the room. ‘Not while you’re still occupying half of the kingdom, _cousin,’_ he said, his voice dangerously low.

Gabriel sighed loudly. ‘We’re both stuck in this situation, there’s nothing we can do about that now.’

‘You could just give it back,’ Dean said.

‘Oh, he’s funny! You didn’t tell me he was funny.’

Castiel just glared at him.

‘Listen, just because our fathers didn’t get along, doesn’t mean we can’t.’

‘Hey, didn’t your father kill his father and steal half of his land?’ Dean said hotly.

‘Dean, enough,’ Castiel muttered.

‘Yeah, Dean, keep your nose out.’ Gabriel snapped his fingers, and several servants walked in carrying trays of food.

Castiel scowled at the heaps of food placed on the table before him. ‘If you’re going to occupy stolen land, the least you could do is feed your people.’

‘Oh, well… we’re so short on food these days…’

‘I send you plenty of aid,’ Castiel snapped.

‘Peasants are peasants, what can you do?’

Castiel slammed his good hand on the table and leapt to his feet. ‘How dare you?’ he snarled.

‘Whoa,’ Gabriel said, throwing his hands in the air. ‘Calm down, will you?’

‘ _Calm down?’_ Castiel leaned down, close to Gabriel. ‘You will cease raiding the northern towns and villages immediately. If I hear that one of your men has even set foot south of the border you will regret it.’ He stood up straight again. ‘Pack all of this up. Let’s go,’ he said to the guard, who were all too happy to leave. ‘Do not make me come back here, Gabriel.’ He turned his back on Gabriel, sweeping from the room while the guard carried out armfuls of food.

‘I miss you already,’ Gabriel called.

Castiel ignored him, storming back through the unfinished castle and helping distribute the food once they were outside. He gave Alfie a coin to go and find a new horse, and they were ready to leave within the hour.

Though Dean was glad he didn’t have to share a saddle anymore, he stuck as close to the King as he could. He still didn’t like how pale Castiel was, nor how often he winced at small dips in the road. He was shaking as well, but Dean couldn’t tell if it was the injury or how furious he was.

Castiel rode into the night, along the same stream they had rested at the day before, and only stopping when the stars were bright and the moon was high. He got down from his horse on his own, but had to stop and rest against the horse’s flank.

Dean glanced back at Benny, who looked equally as concerned as Dean felt. ‘All right, everyone, make camp,’ he said, and they all looked relieved to have something to do. Dean then carefully approached the King. ‘Come and sit down,’ he said gently.

‘No,’ said Castiel. ‘Can you smell it?’

‘Smell what?’

Castiel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘I can smell grass. We’re almost home.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks to VegasGranny and Why_do_you_want_to_know for the comments! See you again soon!


	8. Chapter Eight

Dean looked back at the others, already beginning to unpack their bags.

‘We could keep going,’ he offered. ‘Just give us a couple of hours to rest the horses.’

Castiel sighed, but nodded.

‘Great.’ Dean ran over and stopped the rest of the guard from unpacking and told them the plan.

They all agreed with no argument at all and milled around while the horses ate and drank. They were all eager to be home.

Castiel didn’t move much, unwilling to jostle his shoulder. He was even paler under the moonlight, and Dean could see him shivering.

‘This isn’t looking good,’ he muttered to Benny.

‘I agree. We need to get him back as soon as possible.’

‘All right everyone, load up,’ Dean called. ‘Let’s get home already, I’m sick of all this dust.’

The King painfully mounted his horse again, and Dean rode up beside him.

‘Are you all right?’

Castiel nodded, but grabbed his shoulder when the horse began moving again. ‘We’ll be home soon.’

Alfie rode ahead of them to scout the road, and the rest of them rode tightly together.

Castiel didn’t seem to notice, instead focussing on the road ahead of him.

Just as the sun peeked over the horizon, their horses’ hooves found soft grass at last. Castiel let out a sigh and he seemed to relax, though he still held his shoulder, wincing at every step.

After so much time away, the grass was sweet to smell, and almost seemed too green to their eyes.

The horses were eager to nibble on it, so once they were over the border, Castiel finally allowed them to stop.

‘I think we should all get some rest,’ he said quietly.

‘Do you want some help down?’ Dean asked, biting his lip anxiously.

‘Thank you.’

The sun had fully risen by the time their camp was set up. No one except Castiel wanted to lie inside their tents on such a nice day, so they tied up their horses and prepared themselves for a nap in the sun.

Castiel, however, was still very much in pain, but doing his best not to show it. He called Dean into his tent to treat the shoulder as best he could. The bruise was now fully-formed, turning the King’s shoulder into a mottled purple and green mess. It was still swollen and the skin around the bruise was red and puffy.

Dean sucked in a breath when he saw it.

‘Is it bad?’ the King asked.

‘I’ve seen worse,’ he said. ‘But not by much.’

Castiel nodded. ‘It’ll be fine once we get there.’

‘We’re about half a day out. We really want to get you there, but…’

Castiel waved him off. ‘I’m not the only one with injuries.’

Dean nodded, thinking of Ash’s lingering limp, Benny’s black eye, the wound on Jack’s eyebrow that kept opening and dripping blood, and the cut on his own cheek that felt tight and itchy.

‘Get some rest, Dean. We’re across the border now. It’s safe.’

‘All right. Let me fix this bandage first, though.’

  
  


It was afternoon by the time they departed again. The sun blazed down on them, and they removed their armour. The relief was palpable when the mountain finally appeared on the horizon.

Castiel paused for a moment to put on his cloak, so his injured arm would be covered up when they arrived in town.

Even the horses seemed to know that they were almost done, and they eagerly trotted ahead. The sky turned orange and their horses’ hooves finally found cobblestones. People were waiting on the outskirts of town already, the watchmen having already tolled the bells to signal their return.

Castiel drew a deep breath and sat up straight, a smile on his face as he greeted his subjects. He kept his arm hidden under his cloak, using one hand to hold onto his horse’s reins.

There was an amount of clapping and cheering before they left the crowd for the quiet lawn before the castle.

They all dismounted, and Castiel turned to the guard.

‘Thank you for your service,’ he said. ‘You’re dismissed.’

They bowed to him, Ash a little awkwardly on his injured leg, and walked their horses away.

Dean was the only one to remain with the King and walked with him into the castle. As soon as they were inside, Castiel lost his composure and leaned heavily against the stone wall.

‘Someone get the physician!’ Dean called loudly, guiding the King to the stairs where he could sit.

There was a good deal of rushing around until someone located Walther and the King’s physician, and they both examined Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel hissing through his teeth as he was prodded at.

‘You can go, Dean,’ Castiel said through gritted teeth.

‘I’ll wait.’

‘As you wish.’

Eventually, the physician concluded that the King’s shoulder was too swollen, so he gave Castiel some herbs to reduce the inflammation, and strapped it tightly.

‘Did you wrap this yourself, Your Majesty?’

‘No.’

‘Well, whoever did may very well have saved your arm. This is quite serious.’

Castiel glanced up at Dean. ‘Will this delay the pilgrimage?’

‘By a few days, I should think,’ said the physician. ‘I wouldn’t recommend attempting to climb anything until the swelling has subsided.’

Castiel sighed. ‘All right, fine. Thank you.’ He got to his feet and waved away the physician, then slowly climbed up the stairs with Walther and Dean behind him.

‘Wake me tomorrow with the updated reports,’ he said to Walther. ‘I want to know what’s left of the supply train and send it to Naomi. Have we had further attacks from the north?’

‘There were some raids on the fishing villages, but they’ve been quiet for a few days.’

Castiel nodded. ‘That will be from when I visited Gabriel.’ He stopped to catch his breath at the top of the stairs. ‘Is the _Era_ back yet?’

Walther nodded. ‘The captain and crew are all safe and well. They stayed long enough for essential repairs, but left Allinesse as soon as they could.’

‘Excellent.’ Castiel started walking again, at last reaching his chambers. ‘No one is to disturb me until tomorrow morning,’ he said.

Walther bowed and walked away, but Dean hesitated.

‘I’m all right, Dean,’ Castiel said quietly. ‘I have some nice herbs to eat, and I’m sure a good night’s sleep will do wonders. You’re excused.’

Dean inclined his head, slipped off the satchel that contained the Crown, and handed it to Castiel. He turned his back on the King, taking the few short steps to his own room. He took one last look at the King’s now closed door, then went inside.

He was immediately pounced on, and it took him a moment to realise it was Sam.

‘You’re back!’ Sam exclaimed, squeezing him tightly.

‘Yes, it’s me. You got me,’ Dean said in a slightly strangulated voice. ‘Let go, will you? I can’t breathe.’

Sam jumped back, grinning from ear to ear. ‘What happened to your face?’

‘Raiders, we think. Or mercenaries sent by Gabriel. One or the other,’ Dean said, sitting down on his bed and resisting the urge to rub the cut on his cheek.

‘It looks like it’s going to scar.’

Dean shrugged. ‘Another one for the collection.’

Sam threw himself down on the bed next to Dean. ‘So, how was it?’ he asked. ‘Did the King try to sacrifice you to Queen Naomi? Did he even bother talking to you all the way back from Allinesse?’

‘Actually,’ Dean said. ‘He’s not so bad.’

Sam’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re joking?’

‘No,’ Dean shrugged. ‘He’s actually kind of nice. Grumpy, but nice. He talked about our father.’

‘You _told_ him?’

‘No, no, of course not. He was just talking about his other Lionhearts.’

‘What did he say?’

‘It was strange. He said that dad was really nice to him. He said that he tried to find us too, but he didn’t know where we lived.’

Sam puffed out his cheeks. ‘Wow,’ he said eventually. ‘What are you going to do now?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Are you still going up the mountain?’

‘Of course,’ Dean frowned. ‘Something up there is still calling me, and I’m still the Lionheart, so I have to go.’

‘Are you going to tell him?’

‘After the blessing, maybe.’

Sam shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you got yourself into this mess. You should have just left it alone.’

‘Too late for that now, Sammy.’

Dean lay back and closed his eyes. His back and legs ached from the journey. ‘Do me a favour and go away. I need to sleep.’

‘Yeah, I missed you too,’ Sam grumbled, getting up from the bed.

‘Hey,’ Dean said, sitting up again and grabbing Sam. ‘I missed you too, little brother.’

Sam squirmed in Dean’s arms, but he laughed. ‘Get off me, you’re squeezing me to death.’

‘If you insist,’ Dean said, letting Sam go right as he yanked himself away, causing him to fall flat on his face.

‘You’re the worst,’ Sam groaned, stumbling to his feet.

‘I agree. Now go away, seriously.’

Sam tutted and left, but as soon as the room was quiet, Dean found himself unable to relax.

Despite the bed being soft and inviting, and his bones aching, Dean stood up, restless. He threw open the door to his balcony. The smell of sweet grass once again met his nose and he breathed it in deeply. The sun was sinking lower and lower, and Dean looked out over the town. It was peaceful, and smoke rose from chimneys as people began to set their fires. He leaned against the railing, and noticed Castiel resting against the railing on his own balcony.

Dean stepped over to the railing that divided them and smiled. Whatever herbs the physician had given the King seemed to be working. Some colour had already returned to his cheeks and he was sipping on a goblet of wine.

‘You couldn’t sleep either?’ Dean asked.

‘I thought I might, but I keep thinking about Gabriel. Something was off about him.’

‘What gave it away, the lack of shoes or the underclothes?’

Castiel chuckled. ‘I didn’t want to have to delay the pilgrimage either.’

‘It can’t be helped,’ said Dean. ‘You’re not going anywhere with that arm.’

‘That’s very reassuring of you.’

‘It’ll be all right,’ Dean said. ‘Is that better?’

‘Much,’ Castiel said, rolling his eyes. He offered Dean some wine, which Dean cheerfully sipped. ‘I appreciate your assistance with my arm, Dean.’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘It evidently is not nothing. How is your cheek?’

‘It itches,’ Dean grimaced.

Castiel handed him some of the herbs he had been eating. ‘These should help.’

‘Thank you.’

They both stood in silence for a while. Castiel drained the rest of his wine.

‘I think I’ll try to sleep now. You should do the same.’

‘Is that an order?’

Castiel gave him a sharp look. ‘Yes, that’s an order. You’ll need your strength to help me climb the mountain.’

The thought sobered Dean and he nodded. ‘You’re right, but do you have any more wine? That should knock me out.’

Castiel went inside and brought Dean another goblet. ‘Enjoy that, they grow it close to the border in Negium. It’s their best wine.’

‘I’ve heard of it. Isn’t it impossible to get?’

‘Not if you’re friends with the King.’

‘Oh, are we friends now?’

Castiel smirked. ‘Actually, I meant myself and the King of Negium, but we can be friends if you like, Dean.’

‘I appreciate that greatly, Your Majesty,’ Dean grinned and took another sip of the wine. ‘That _is_ good.’

‘I’m going inside now. Goodnight, Dean.’

‘Goodnight.’

Dean walked back into his room, deep shadows gathering, but he still couldn’t sleep. He lit the fire and his eyes fell on the Lionheart scrolls, conspicuously placed on the table. He rolled his eyes, but sat down in a comfortable chair before the fire and set about reading them. He took his time, pushing thoughts of his father away. This was his role now, not his father’s, and it was about time he accepted that.

By the time he was finished, Dean’s eyes were itchy and his head was drooping. Finally tired enough to go to sleep, he carefully tied up the scrolls and crawled into bed.

  
  


Dean wandered around the castle for the next few days while Castiel recovered from his injury. He hadn’t had a chance to explore before they left for Allinesse, so he jumped on the opportunity. He found the baths first, and spent hours soaking himself in water that was heated by hot coals. Then he found the kitchen, where he stole some fresh, warm bread.

Sam showed Dean his room. It was smaller than Dean’s but the walls were lined with bookcases, and Sam seemed to enjoy it. He dragged Dean to the library and talked enthusiastically about all the books that were there, and Dean found himself thoroughly bored by it.

Soon, Dean had combed every inch of the castle and grew restless, so he ventured into the town, wandering in and out of the market stalls and visiting Uriel at the smithy, examining the weapons he had on offer. Anna wasn’t there, and he realised he hadn’t seen her in a while. He wanted to ask Uriel, but Uriel had so far not spoken, nor even turned to acknowledge Dean’s presence, so Dean reluctantly exited the building.

Eventually, Dean ended up lying on the floor of his chambers, bored. Sam had buried himself in a book in front of the fireplace, and Dean had run out of things to do. He thought about venturing further away from the markets in town, but the King would be ready to leave at any moment.

‘Sam, will you spar with me?’ Dean asked.

Sam scowled at him over the top of his book. ‘You would beat me immediately. That’s no fun for either of us.’

‘But I’m bored,’ Dean complained.

‘So read something.’

‘Are you trying to kill me?’

Sam threw a book at him and Dean laughed loudly.

Then there was a knock at the door.

‘Come in,’ Dean called, still laughing at Sam.

‘What are you doing on the floor?’

Dean looked up and saw Castiel at the door, and scrambled to his feet. Sam jumped up from his chair and bowed.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re leaving tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Meet me at the base of the mountain in the morning.’

‘Right.’

Castiel’s eyes swept the room and he smiled at Sam. ‘You found the library.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Sam said awkwardly.

‘I hope you enjoy it. It’s one of my favourite rooms.’

Sam nodded.

‘Don’t be late,’ Castiel said to Dean, before leaving the room and closing the door.

Once he was gone, Sam reached over and slapped Dean’s arm.

‘I can’t believe you did that!’

‘Hey, did what?’ Dean said indignantly.

‘You didn’t bow to him! He’s the King, Dean!’

‘Really? I had no idea.’

‘ _Dean!’_

‘Come on, Sam, if I have to bow to him every time I see him, I’ll never be stood up straight.’

Sam scowled.

‘What are you so worried about anyway? I thought you didn’t like him.’

‘That was you, Dean. I like him, he’s nice to me.’

‘Oh, is that all it takes?’

‘You would know if you ever tried it.’

‘You’re hilarious.’

After Sam settled back into his book, Dean went to his wardrobe and examined the clothing he was meant to wear for the pilgrimage. It was a lot of red leather, and his short cloak had already been replaced. He pinned Castiel’s sigil to the jerkin.

Nerves gathered in the pit of Dean’s stomach and his heart pumped it around his body until his fingers and toes tingled. It was finally time to climb the mountain and confront whatever he found at its peak. It was difficult for Dean to find sleep that night, his dreams plagued by his father’s voice more loudly than ever, and he woke to a soft breeze through the door he’d left open.

The castle was eerily quiet as Dean got dressed, strapping on his sword, and he crept out of his chambers. The hallway was empty. Not even the guards usually posted outside the King’s chambers were there. Dean took a deep breath and walked down the stairs, pulling on his leather gloves. He stopped in his tracks when he saw all of the staff and Sam waiting for him in the entrance hall. No one spoke.

Walther approached him and solemnly tied a silver band around his upper arm.

‘The King is in your hands now,’ he said quietly. ‘Please protect him.’

Dean blinked, caught by surprise. ‘Of course,’ he said eventually. ‘I made the vows, I intend to keep them.’

Walther nodded. ‘Then go. Take our prayers with you.’ Walther stepped aside and gestured for Dean to continue.

As soon as he started walking, the staff began muttering their prayers, and whispers followed Dean through the open doors. There were even more people outside, all the townsfolk and nobility, and all of them silent until Dean appeared. Their whispers filled the air, and people lined the footpath that ran around the back of the castle, between the trees that protected the path, all the way up to the base of the mountain. There were two, fully-armoured, solemn guards there that had their spears at the ready. Dean stopped before them and the prayers stopped, silence falling over the path. They regarded Dean closely, eyes falling on the King’s sigil on his chest, and parted to let him through. Once past the guards, the people that lined the path all walked away in silence, and Dean watched them go until the path was empty but for himself and the two guards. Dean bit his lip anxiously, and continued on up the path.

The King was waiting behind a bend in the path where no one else could see him. He was dressed in a plain white tunic, brown leather leggings and boots, and the satchel that carried the Crown. He was leaning against a tree, eating an apple.

Dean approached him and bowed. Though it was odd after so much time of not bothering with his manners, it also felt right under the circumstances.

Castiel threw away his apple core, wiped his hands on his tunic and stood up straight.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

Dean nodded. ‘I am.’

‘Good. Let’s go.’  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Why_do_you_want_to_know and VegasGranny for the comments! See you again soon :)


	9. Chapter Nine

Castiel led the way up the path, gravel crunching beneath his boots. Dean looked around in awe. 

The trees were monstrously tall and thick, but they were eerily quiet, as though the animals inhabiting them did not dare make sound. It unsettled Dean, and he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The path wound around the base of the mountain, and Dean became suspicious of even the shadows, his eyes darting around. There were guards stationed around the perimeter, he knew, but it wasn’t always enough.

They kept going, in complete and utter silence. Eventually, Castiel stopped before a rough white cliff face, gazing up at it and sighing. 

‘It gets harder every time,’ he mumbled, before kneeling at the foot of the cliff and groping around for a small clay pot. He took off his satchel and gave it to Dean, then dipped his hand in the pot, bringing out a fistful of powdered chalk and coating his hands.

Dean knew what Castiel had to do, but it made him uneasy. 

‘You’ll be able to see me from the path,’ Castiel said, pointing towards the spot where the path continued up.

‘Are you sure you have to do this?’ Dean asked. ‘With your shoulder and everything.’

Castiel nodded. ‘If anything, it’ll prove my devotion even more.’

‘All right,’ Dean said uncertainly. 

He did as Castiel said, following the path around the cliff face. The King was in view the whole time, and Dean watched him slowly climb up. He began to struggle almost immediately, and Dean could see him only using his injured arm when absolutely necessary. It slowed his progress, but he refused to stop. Every so often, he looked up, considering his next handhold, and replotting his path whenever a ledge or stone crumbled when he tested it.

Dean watched him anxiously, occasionally remembering that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on their surroundings too. About half way up, Castiel slipped slightly and Dean gasped. Castiel caught himself again and hauled himself up.

At this point, Dean was helpless. If anything went wrong, all Dean  _ could  _ do was watch. He chewed his fingernails on one hand, and clutching the hilt of his sword with the other. He followed Castiel’s progress and taking small steps up the path the further he went, but it was painstakingly slow.

The sun had reached its zenith and begun to sink by the time Castiel reached the top, panting, dripping in sweat. He clambered over the edge and stayed on his knees, rubbing his shoulder. His hair was stuck to his face, and he impatiently pushed it out of the way.

‘Here,’ Dean said, crouching down next to him and passing him the waterskin. 

‘Thank you,’ Castiel gasped, gulping down most of it. He only gave himself moments to recover before dragging himself to his feet. 

‘We could stop a little longer,’ Dean said anxiously, looking at the cuts and scrapes that were bleeding through the arms of his tunic, the blisters already forming on his palms, and his ragged, bloody fingernails.

‘There’s no time,’ Castiel said. ‘We already delayed long enough, and the climb took longer than it should have.’

‘You’re being too hard on yourself.’

‘That’s not for you to decide,’ Castiel snapped. 

He continued on. They finally rose above the trees and were bathed in sunlight, and they could hear the roar of a waterfall. 

Castiel seemed heartened by this and picked up the pace, bringing Dean to a large pond, water rolling into it from above their heads, then out again and down to the river below. 

‘Draw your sword, Dean,’ Castiel said. ‘You must witness the purification.’

Dean nodded and stood at the edge of the pond, his sword point on the ground, and watched Castiel wading into the water.

Castiel washed his hands in the pond, clouds of chalk billowing from him, and made his way over to the waterfall. He stood underneath it, the water pounding over his shoulders.

Dean did his duty, watching uncomfortably as Castiel fell forward several times, always forcing himself back under the waterfall.

At last, as the sun touched the horizon, Castiel seemed to receive a signal that Dean didn’t understand, and he finally stepped out from under the waterfall. Dean sheathed his sword and pulled Castiel out of the water. He was shivering, but shrugged Dean off, and went to sit at the edge of the cliff in the sun.

Dean sat beside him without a word.

‘It’s not so bad,’ Castiel murmured. ‘She tries to warm the water for me.’

‘That’s nice of her.’

‘She feels bad for hurting me, but it can’t be helped.’ Castiel sighed and looked out over the edge of the cliff. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

Dean too looked out over the kingdom, the light reflecting off the rivers, and the castle below them looked like a child’s toy. Stretching as far as the eye could see, green, lush grass rippled in the breeze. 

‘It is,’ said Dean. He wondered if his father had sat in this very spot, what he felt when he gazed out at the kingdom. Was he awed by it, as Dean was? Dean doubted it. He thought his father was more likely to ignore it completely and focus on the task at hand.

‘That’s what this is all for,’ Castiel said, nodding to himself. ‘To keep it safe.’ He took a deep breath and got up again. ‘Come. That’s dry enough.’ His tunic still clung to his body, but his hair had stopped dripping.

Dean watched him for a while. He was worn and in pain, but fierce determination still gleamed in his eyes.

The trail became harder to navigate, inclining sharply. Castiel slipped on the gravel, but kept pushing, even when his shoulder seemed to hurt him again. He just rubbed it and kept going.

The trail levelled out, just as the sun was setting, only a sliver of it still hovering over the horizon.

Purple and blue tones filled the sky, but a sinister mist descended upon them, making everything seem darker than it was.

Castiel stopped. ‘The crown,’ he murmured, holding out his hand.

Dean slipped off the satchel and handed it to him.

The King carefully placed the crown on his head. It was luminous in the dark, chasing away the tendrils of mist curling towards them.

‘Be ready,’ Castiel whispered. ‘The spirits of the monarchs are arriving.’

‘Really?’ Dean said incredulously. His father had always been secretive about this part of the pilgrimage, and he’d always assumed it was some sort of metaphor.

Castiel nodded. ‘Once we perform the ceremony with the Goddess, our spirits are bound to the earth forever. When we die, our spirits return here, to protect her.’

Dean whistled. ‘Wow, that’s intense.’

‘That’s one word for it.’ Castiel walked slowly forward. ‘I don’t have any trouble with the older ones, usually. The first few times I came up here, the younger ones deemed me unworthy. That’s where you come in. I can’t stop them myself, so you’ll need to help me get past them. Of course, these days, I only have trouble with one of them.’

Dean didn’t need to guess which.

The mist around them started to solidify and form shapes. Some were only vaguely person-shaped. They had no features, but parted to let Castiel pass. The further along they went, the more solid the mist became. The features of the monarchs became sharper and more focused. Some of them hesitated before allowing them to pass, staring Castiel in the face before stepping out of his way.

Castiel clenched his fists nervously, but kept walking. There were only a few spirits left to pass and they could see the end of the trail; a huge cavern cut into the side of the mountain.

As they approached it, Dean spotted a red painted, wooden archway that led to another trail. It wound away from them and towards the other side of the mountain, and it was lined with more red-painted wooden fencing. That had to be where the Lionhearts were buried.

Dean glanced at Castiel. There was only one spirit left for him to pass now. Surely, he wouldn’t notice if Dean disappeared down the trail. Dean fell back, slowing to a stop next to the archway. The King didn’t notice that he had stopped, so Dean turned towards the archway. There were just a few more steps to take to pass underneath the archway, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Castiel too had stopped, confronting the one spirit that refused to move for him. 

‘Let me pass,’ Castiel commanded, but the spirit heard the tremor in his voice just as clearly as Dean did. 

Dean bit his lip, looking desperately down the trail. 

‘I won’t make your mistakes,’ said Castiel, but this was the wrong thing to say. The spirit shoved him furiously, then grabbed his neck and squeezed. 

Dean looked down the trail and back again, hoping that Castiel would find a way out of this himself.

‘ _ Dean!’  _ Castiel choked, clawing at the hand at his throat.

Dean gave the trail a longing look, then wrenched his sword from his sheath. He threw himself at the spirit, recognising it as their previous King - Castiel’s father. His sword glinted, reflecting the soft light from the crown, and he thrust it at the spirit. The moment his sword tip touched it, the spirit disappeared, dropping Castiel.

Castiel fell to his knees, wheezing and massaging his throat.

‘Are you all right?’ Dean asked, kneeling in front of him.

Castiel nodded.

‘Quite a man, your father.’

‘That was nothing. He was far worse when he was alive,’ Castiel croaked, standing up again. ‘Come on, we’re almost there.’

The last few steps were agonising. Castiel dragged his feet, his injured arm bent awkwardly and bruises beginning to form around his neck. He stopped at the gap in the wall, leaning on it briefly to catch his breath. 

‘You can do it,’ Dean encouraged. ‘Last bit, come on.’

Castiel nodded, rubbed his eyes, and went inside.

Dean followed closely behind. He expected the cavern to be dark, but he was surprised to find it lit brightly. A soft glow emanated from a pool at the back of the cavern, similar to the way the crown glowed.

Castiel sighed in relief and approached the pool, too exhausted to pay attention to Dean, who was gazing around at the light reflecting off smooth stones in the walls. On the other side of the cavern, there was another gap in the wall, and Dean could see the night sky through it.

Castiel sat heavily down on the floor. He slowly pulled off his boots and washed his feet with what was left of their waterskins. There were bruises around his ankles and toes as well, and he sighed again as the water splashed over them,

‘Dean, help me up,’ he said, holding out his good arm.

Dean hauled him to his feet and waited for him to steady himself before letting go. 

He stepped barefoot into the pool, the water coming half way up his calves. The ripples scattered light everywhere as Castiel approached the smooth stone altar at the centre of the pool.

He leaned on it for a moment, hands either side, then took off the crown and placed it in the centre. He stepped back and stood up straight, waiting.

Dean wasn’t sure what they were waiting for, and he opened his mouth to ask, but the words died in his throat when more light filled the air.

This light was warm, and filled with tiny golden particles. They flew around Castiel’s head, then the crown, then settled next to the altar, opposite Castiel.

Castiel held out his hands, wincing slightly as his shoulder pulled, and his scabbed palms too began to glow. 

Suddenly, the particles clumped together, first forming hands that held Castiel’s, then arms and shoulders. The light glowed so brightly that it hurt Dean’s eyes. The particles continued forming together in the shape of a young girl. The light then dimmed and Dean could see her properly.

She appeared to be no older than fourteen, wearing a long white dress, clouds of champagne coloured hair falling down to her waist. Her skin itself was gold, and though the light was no longer dazzling, she still glowed gold.

‘Castiel,’ she said. Her voice was soft, but deep, and there were many layers to it.

‘Millennia,’ Castiel breathed, bowing over their hands.

‘It’s good to see your face.’ She cupped his cheek, and despite how exhausted he was, he gave her a warm smile. 

‘Likewise,’ he murmured. ‘This is the new Lionheart, Sir Dean.’

Millennia turned her head to look at Dean, and Dean sunk to one knee. Her face was too much to look at. Smooth and golden, she had a smile for him, but he found himself unable to look into her rich amber eyes for too long.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Sir Dean,’ she said. 

Dean spluttered, but couldn’t form a coherent sentence. 

‘I would like to see your face,’ said the Goddess, strolling over to Dean and lifting his chin. Her touch was warm. ‘I know you,’ she said.

‘You do?’ said Castiel. 

Dean still could not find words. 

‘I see John in you.’

‘What?’ said Castiel.

‘You are his son, are you not?’

Dean glanced at Castiel, who was staring at him, but with the Goddess’s fingers still under his chin, he couldn’t lie. He just swallowed and forced out a small, ‘Yes.’ He couldn’t bring himself to look at Castiel’s expression.

Millennia, seemingly satisfied, let go of Dean and returned to Castiel.

‘It’s time,’ she said, gently caressing his cheek.

Castiel nodded and they both stepped out of the pool, Millennia holding Castiel’s arm.

‘Come, Dean,’ Millennia said, glancing back at Dean. ‘The Lionhearts always like to watch.’

Dean hesitantly followed them to the other side of the cavern and out of the gap on the other side. 

It led out onto a small spit of rock, just big enough for the three of them to stand on. A railing had been added to it, and it looked like a recent addition. The castle was below and to the left of them, now miniscule from their position. 

The kingdom stretched out before them, the moon now high in the sky, lighting up the grass and fields in the distance.

‘Are you ready?’ Millennia asked softly.

‘Yes,’ said Castiel.

Millennia shook her head. ‘You aren’t.’

‘Neither of us have much choice in the matter,’ Castiel said gently, patting her arm, then pulling away and standing at the edge.

Millennia stood behind him. She put one hand on his back, and held the other high in the air, pointing at the sky.

Castiel raised his uninjured arm, palm down, and both of them began to glow. 

Millennia first, her eyes turning from amber to luminous gold; then Castiel, whose eyes glowed brilliant blue.

More golden particles appeared in the air, and flowing down into Millennia’s finger, as though she were pulling power from the stars themselves.

Dean watched in awe as the air glowed brighter and brighter.

Castiel made a small grunting sound, and light burst from his palm, hitting the rock underneath him first, then slowly spreading down the mountain.

Dean had seen this all before from the ground. He always came out to watch the blessing with Sam, but seeing it up this close was incredible.

The light covered the castle first when it reached the bottom of the mountain, then crept over the grass, turning everything gold. As it reached the horizon, Castiel began to struggle. His arm trembled, and his breathing became heavy. 

‘You should stop,’ Millennia said.

‘Not yet,’ said Castiel, holding up his arm. ‘Keep going.’

The light was beyond the horizon now, but Dean knew it still had far to go. 

Castiel used his other arm to hold himself up, clutching the railing tightly.

‘Castiel.’

‘No, I can do it,’ he gasped. ‘Please.’

Millennia didn’t let go, but Castiel’s breath came harder and harder, and his arm shook violently. At last, Millennia said, ‘Enough’ and pulled her hand away.

As soon as she moved away, the glowing faded and Castiel collapsed into a heap.

The Goddess sighed and beckoned Dean forward, so that he could lift the King back to his feet. 

Castiel was still awake, but had no more energy to move.

‘This way,’ said Millennia, waiting for Dean to follow her back inside the cavern.

Fireworks popped as the town below celebrated, but it all sounded so far away to Dean as he held on to the King.

It was difficult to walk with Castiel so limp and fatigued, but they made it inside, and Millennia pointed them to a simple straw mattress tucked into a corner.

Dean lowered Castiel onto it, and he finally allowed himself to sleep.

Millennia knelt beside him, stroking his forehead.

‘This is very difficult for him,’ she said. 

‘I know,’ said Dean.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt him. He was so young.’

Dean nodded. ‘So it was you calling me?’

‘I called for someone who would help him. You answered.’

‘I answered my father’s voice.’

Millennia looked down. ‘I’m sorry. I had to bring you here. He suffers. I needed someone to alleviate his pain.’

Dean sucked in a breath. ‘But why me? What can I do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Millennia admitted. ‘I called for someone who could help. That’s all… My sister would know.’

‘Era?’ Dean asked. 

Millennia nodded. ‘She would have known not to perform the ceremony on someone so young. She would know how to fix it.’

‘The war was tough on all of us,’ Dean said to her, ‘but if we all just do what we can, I think we can make it through. There are still good things in the world.’ 

Dean could hardly believe that  _ he  _ was comforting the  _ Goddess _ , but she clearly expected something from him.

‘There are,’ she agreed, looking from Castiel to him, then back at Castiel.

Dean and Millennia watched Castiel sleep for a few more hours, until finally, Millennia reached out a reluctant hand.

‘Wake,’ she said softly.

Castiel’s eyes fluttered open and he painfully sat up. ‘You shouldn’t have let me sleep,’ he mumbled. ‘We need to go.’

‘But-’ Dean began.

‘I said, we need to go,’ Castiel said sharply, stumbling to his feet.

He took Millennia’s hand and stepped back into the pool with her, clasping both hands over the altar, as they had before.

Millennia stood on her tiptoes and kissed Castiel’s cheek, then faded into gold dust with a sigh.

Castiel slumped and rested against the altar for a moment, then picked up the crown and tucked it into his satchel, lurching out of the pool and briefly grabbing Dean for support.

‘Do we have to leave right now?’ Dean asked as Castiel yanked himself away.

‘Yes,’ Castiel said shortly, refusing to look at him.

Dean swallowed and followed the furious king outside.

The mist had all dissipated, leaving the trail back down the mountain quite empty. Dean glanced again at the red archway, but walked right past it. 

‘Please don’t be angry with me,’ Dean said.

‘I’m not,’ Castiel said shortly.

‘I’m not stupid, of course you are.’

‘I just want to get back.’

Dean sighed, but followed the King down the mountain. There was no need to do the trials on the way down, so they made good time.

‘I’m sorry, all right?’ Dean said when they reached the top of the cliff Castiel had climbed earlier that day.

Castiel rounded on him. ‘What was this really about?’ he demanded. 

Dean sighed and looked down at his boots. ‘I wanted to see where my father died,’ he said, ‘but you can’t come up here if you’re not the monarch or the Lionheart.’

‘You could have just asked me.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ Dean said. ‘I thought you were going to be just like your father, and there’s no way he would have ever let me up here.’

‘So you judged me without having ever met me, you lied to your King, you jeopardised the pilgrimage-’

‘I did  _ not  _ do that,’ said Dean hotly. ‘I’m not that much of an idiot, I know what needs to be done.’

‘You lied to me.’

‘Yeah, I did, but it’s not like you’re perfect either,’ Dean burst out, letting his anger get the better of him. 

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘You could easily have found me and Sam,’ Dean said. ‘Did you even try at all, or were you just saying that to look good in front of the guard?’

Castiel’s eyes widened. ‘You can’t speak to me like that.’

‘What, you’re allowed to accuse me of stuff, and I’m not allowed to be angry about it? No way, if you really wanted to find us, you could have. We could see the castle from our house, you could have asked anyone in town where to find two little boys.’

Castiel looked away, arms folded. 

‘It wasn’t easy for you when your father died, but it wasn’t easy for me and Sam either. I sold all our stuff, I had to join your stupid army just to make sure Sam had something to eat. You could have found us if you really wanted to, but you didn’t, did you?’ Dean was surprised himself at the tirade that came pouring out of his mouth. ‘I - I just wanted to know what happened to him… that’s all…’

Castiel shook his head and kept walking. ‘I thought you were different, Dean. No one ever says what they mean to my face, but I thought you and I at least understood each other.’ He turned and kept walking, descending below the treeline. 

‘We do,’ Dean insisted, following after him. ‘I made a mistake, but I know you now-’

‘Do not presume to know me!’ Castiel spat. ‘We have spent time together, that is all.’

‘But-’ Dean cut himself off at the sound of rustling in the trees.

‘No buts, Dean, there is much you don’t-’

‘Shh,’ Dean hissed, listening hard. 

‘ _ Excuse me?’  _

‘Please, be quiet,’ Dean whispered.

This time, there was a snap that they both heard.

Dean took a step towards the trees, drawing his sword.

Suddenly, a man dressed all in black leapt out at him with his own sword raised high. Dean blocked him, throwing him backwards. He glanced back at the King, who had raised his fists, but anyone with a set of eyes could see that he was exhausted.

Dean fought the one man that was throwing himself at the King, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw two more people emerge from beneath the trees. 

‘Look out!’ he yelled at Castiel.

Castiel ducked under a sword that flew at him, but it only just missed. His movements were sluggish and imprecise, and the assassins were ready to use that to their advantage.

Dean once again threw back the man attacking him, this time kicking out and sending the man sprawling, so he could run in between Castiel and another sword.

Their steel clashed and before the assassin could recover, Dean ran his sword through her stomach. She fell back and lay motionless on the ground, so Dean turned his attention to the other two. The one he had kicked over was getting to his feet, and the other was closing in on them, considering how best to get past Dean.

‘Stay down,’ Dean whispered to Castiel.

He took a step, then slashed at the assassin closest to them. The assassin parried and spun around Dean, but Dean whirled around too, thrusting his sword into the assassin’s back, yanking it back when he was certain the assassin was dead. He looked around to find the other one, but he had disappeared. 

‘ _ Dean!’ _

Dean turned, but he was too slow. Searing, white-hot pain flooded through him, and he looked down at the blade piercing him deep through the stomach. He grunted as the assassin ripped it out of him and everything turned grey, his only thought was that Castiel was still unarmed.

The assassin had left him now, confident that Dean was no longer a threat, and turned his attention to the King. 

Dean sucked in a breath. He didn’t have long, but he could still do his duty. One hand to his stomach, he raised his sword and sliced through the assassin’s neck with as much strength as he could muster, cutting clean through it. The assassin was done, his head rolling down the trail, but so was Dean. His sword clattered to the ground and he pressed both of his hands to his stomach.

‘Dean!’ Castiel cried, hurrying to his side.

‘That’s a lot of blood,’ Dean slurred, watching it drip over his hands.

‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Who’s the liar now?’

‘Let’s just - let’s just get you back to the castle. Everything will be all right.’

‘I’m - I’m not going to make it that far.’

‘You will,’ Castiel insisted. ‘You will, because I command it.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Dean mumbled. 

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Don’t call you what?’

‘“Your Majesty”. I don’t want to hear your manners until you’re better.’

Dean nodded, and shuffled forward, barely able to move. Castiel took Dean’s arm around his shoulder, but weak as he was, they wouldn’t get far.

‘I could heal you,’ Castiel said after a few steps.

‘No,’ Dean said hoarsely. ‘If you die, then it was all for nothing.’

Dean’s vision started to dim, and when he slipped on some gravel, he knew he wasn’t getting up again. 

Castiel knelt beside him, holding his head.

‘Will you - will you look after S-Sam?’ Dean asked, grabbing hold of Castiel’s tunic, leaving bloodstains on the white fabric. ‘Please?’

‘You can look after him yourself,’ Castiel said, pressing a hand over Dean’s wound. 

‘No,’ Dean said, feebly pushing Castiel away. ‘Don’t. You’re too weak.’

‘I won’t let you die,’ Castiel said firmly.

‘You have to. You have to live.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘No…’ But Dean didn’t have the strength left to fight, and the last thing he felt before blacking out, was warmth spreading from the King’s palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Dizzybunny and Why_do_you_want_to_know for the comments!  
> Posting early cos I was too damn excited to post this one. This chapter has been living rent free in my head for literal years, and I'm so happy to finally write it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and I'll see you next time!


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